The Adventures of (a) Yoshi
by Snazzy Suit
Summary: Bowser has attacked before, but never quite this brutally. When even the Mario Brothers are forced to surrender, one can only wonder if anyone can stop him. Three Toads have been tasked with finding another hero to put the King of Koopas back in his place. Easier said than done. But when all seems hopeless, a friendship is formed with a Yoshi that's a bit...off to say the least.
1. Establishing Shot

Does swearing and violence of any kind in a Mario story bother you? If so then...you probably shouldn't read this. XD (It's not that bad I swear!) (Oops, unintentional pun.)

My first stab at the Marioverse. Let's see how it works out! First chapter is poo, but necessary to set up some important story elements. It will get better. :)

**Disclaimer that seems unnecessary because it is _quite_ obvious I've got diddly to do with Nintendo: I uh...don't own Nintendo?**

* * *

Toad Town

Two hours after invasion

* * *

It is late afternoon. The sun is a mere half hour away from setting, though it is much darker than it should be. An eerie haze fills the sky, considerably dimming the already fading light. Dark, ominous clouds reach across the heavens, leading those unaware of their origin to believe it is nothing more than an approaching storm. No, foul weather would be welcome at this point, for this unnerving overcast isn't a promise of rain, but the evidence of a great tragedy.

If one was to look closely, they would see that these somber plumes are fed by billowing towers of smoke, snaking up from scattered fires engulfing the wreckage of a once bustling settlement. The numerous, winding streets are virtually decimated, the aftermath of various explosions turning many of the main roads into impassable scorched rubble. Surrounding homes and businesses fair far worse. Whatever structures were spared total annihilation are mere shadows of their former glory, weakened foundations from relentless detonations and unforgiving flames spreading from other buildings being the key to their deterioration.

With all the crippling destruction, one can only imagine what became of this borough's inhabitants. Could anything survive such an onslaught? Perhaps an evacuation had been issued before the worst came to pass, though whether anyone managed to evade capture or death remains a mystery.

The only visible life is that of the invaders. The sky is teaming with airships of just about every shape and size. A few lazily drift high above the burning wasteland, but most fly low in set courses, patrolling the newly claimed territory. Below the airborne fleet, squads of varying species from the Darkland army frantically sweep the rapidly decaying city. Their urgency seems unnecessary. There appear to be no opposing forces, no threats to this crushing take over, so why, when victory has been so firmly established, do the invaders behave as though all is not well?

Something is missing. Or, perhaps, _someone_.

"Fan out and find him!" A seething Koopatrol barks to his surrounding squad members, gesturing wildly in fit of rage. "We cannot afford to lose the only lead we have on the Princess's location!"

The soldiers immediately depart upon the order's completion, leaving their infuriated commander to attempt to reign in his unchecked temper.

"Incompetent inbreds." He mutters, fuming over his squad's failure. "How hard is it to keep _one_ damn Toad contained?"

The Koopatrol sighs, calming himself only slightly as he joins in the search to locate their recently escaped captive. The building stress from such a crucial day had taken its toll on the Commander, that much was as obvious to him as it was his men. He rarely snapped like that, even under pressure of the most taxing battles. This situation, however, was far more costly than any fight. King Bowser was a ruthless leader, and though he treated his troops fairly in most situations, did _not_ tolerate failure. Screwing up one of the Koopa King's tasks was bad enough on its own, but one that involved the Princess?

By the end of your punishment, you'll wish for death.

Senses clouded by a mind swirling with anxiety, the Koopatrol unknowingly passes by the very prisoner he seeks, barely concealed by the shadows and rubble of a fallen home. Heart beating fiercely, the Toad watches the Commander narrowly miss his hiding place. He holds his breath, refusing to take another until the threat is out of sight, lest he somehow be heard.

Unlikely, he was aware, but he wasn't about to take that chance.

When the Toad's enemy turns down one of the many decimated streets, he takes a cautious breath before allowing the slightest amount of relief to wash over him. He was far from safe, he knew that, but the constant tension made his battered body ache all the more painfully, and he needed alleviation, even if it was only slight. The Toad's imprisonment was very short lived, no more than forty-five minutes if he'd had to guess, but he been dealt a lot of physical punishment in that span of time. His vest had virtually been reduced to rags and his body bore cuts and bruises varying in severity.

Such abuse was not often dealt out to prisoners of the Darkland army, not unless they were causing trouble. In this case, the only thing this Toad was guilty of was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been the last one seen with the Princess before she disappeared and, as such, made him the most likely to know where she was hiding. At least, that's how Bowser's soldiers saw it. When the Toad was captured, instead of being locked away with the other prisoners, he was taken by a squad under the order to pry information from him through any means.

Torture, obviously, fits into that category.

The squad currently combing the surrounding area, however, was wasting their time. No amount of physical or mental agony inflicted upon this Toad would force him to reveal the location of this Kingdom's beloved Princess. He wished he could say loyalty and sheer force of will was behind his silence, and he hoped that would be the case if the Darkland army's assumption had been correct. But in reality, the Toad hadn't told his captors where the Princess had gone because…

He didn't know.

The poor bastard never said anything that would imply he knew such valuable information and yet here he was, labeled as an important lead by unfortunate circumstances. The Toad tried to tell Bowser's men that they were mistaken, but they would have none of his 'lies'. Even so, it was only a matter of time before these troops would start to believe him. Though such an idea seemed welcome at first, the Toad began to grow anxious when a new thought entered his mind.

What would they do to him when he suddenly lost his value?

That's why he had to escape. That's why he was here, weaving his way through the wreckage of his once beautiful city as he tried to find a means of escape. Though with the roads and skies teaming with soldiers, this endeavor was beginning to look more and more futile.

"Wait…" The ragged Toad mutters quietly, thinking aloud. "If travel by land or air isn't viable then why not try…" He turns to the south, eyeing his final option spread across the horizon. "…the sea."

The docks. That's where he should go. The Toad knew this new plan was not without risk, but when weighing it against the alternatives, it holds up significantly better.

Checking to make sure there were no troops in sight, the weary Toad gently eases out of his flimsy hiding place. He takes a few cautious steps in the direction of the sea, clears himself, and breaks into the quickest run he can manage. Due to his weakened state, his pace is hardly more than a moderate jog, but is sufficient enough to cover a decent amount of ground.

The Toad makes frequent stops, both to catch his breath and to peer around obstacles, making sure he was clear before stepping out into the open. His method works fairly well, and after a short amount of time he is nearly at his destination. The Toad pauses at the remains of a super market, checking for passing soldiers for what he hopes is the final time. Satisfied, he leaps from his cover, dashing into the vast roadway separating him from his goal.

This is where the young Toad's luck is completely spent.

Just as the former prisoner takes to the streets, he detects movement in his peripheral. The Toad, still running, turns his head in the figure's direction and all but cries out in despair upon recognizing the soldier with horrid timing.

It was the Commander. The Koopatrol that was searching for him.

The squad leader's eyes widen at the sight of his elusive captive before he calls out to any of his squad members that may be within hearing range. Just as he finishes his alert, the Commander breaks into a full on sprint, making a mad dash for his prize. Soon after, several other soldiers emerge from connecting roadways and alleys, all moving just as quickly, all determined to re-capture the battered prisoner.

The moment the Toad's eyes had rested on that Koopatrol, he knew there was nothing more he could do. His aching body would not allow him to move any faster than his current pace, and it was only a matter of time before one of the soldiers caught him. Even though the Toad knows he is done, he keeps going, not stopping even when heavy, thunderous footsteps indicate his pursuers are mere feet behind him. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the tackle that eventually ends his hopeless attempt to flee.

The Toad's body slams hard into the ground, effectively knocking the wind out of him as well as agitating his still fairly fresh wounds. He gasps painfully as his attacker uses his full body weight to keep the Toad pinned to the unforgiving jagged surface of the dismantled street. The Toad barely registers the murmur of voices echoing among the surrounding soldiers as he desperately tries to return his breathing to a comfortable stasis.

When the initial shock finally wears off, the newly re-obtained prisoner is able to make sense of the words being fervently passed around. They are discussing what to do with him, that much is a given, but they are also sharing theories as to where the young Toad was heading. Was he merely trying to escape and save his own skin? Or was he on his way to a rendezvous point to meet with the Princess herself?

_'These morons still think I know where the Princess is?'_ The Toad internally growls. _'I believe I've had about enough of this shit.'_

The captive's fear is slowly finding itself replaced by an odd mixture of anger and acceptance. Jeers and threats of further harm begin falling on deaf ears, as the Toad discovers he no longer cares. His future's outlook seemed far from good, no matter how you try and approach it, and he wasn't about to give these bastards the satisfaction of having him beg for mercy.

"T-to whoever is laying on top of me," The Toad begins, wheezing with the effort to speak. "I'm flattered, really, but I'd appreciate it if you got off. Or at least buy me dinner first."

The chattering suddenly stops.

The prisoner swears he hears a few of the troops snickering before one of them roughly pulls back his head while another points a sharpened spear menacingly at his stubby neck. He glares up at the weapon's wielder, and is unsurprised to see it is the commanding Koopatrol himself.

"So our guest of honor finally speaks." The Commander's voice rumbles, tone hinting at neither irritation nor amusement.

"And he appears to be quite the comedian." One of his soldiers practically spits. Judging by how close it sounds, the Toad believes the voice must belong to the very trooper keeping him pinned, though he notices the weight keeping him down isn't nearly as intense as before. He sneers, loving that his lame crack had earned such a frazzled reaction.

"That he does." The Koopatrol comments, narrowing his eyes at the Toad's fearless expression. "But we've had about all the jokes and games we can handle for one evening, am I right gentlemen?"

A rhetorical question, but the squad members all but growl in agreement with their leader's assessment. The Commander drops to a squat, keeping his weapon trained on the Toad as he meets the stubborn captive's gaze.

"Now, if you will please make this easier on yourself and the rest of us…" He presses the edge of the spear's tip to the Toad's throat. "…and tell us _where_ the Princess is _hiding_."

The prisoner's shoulders shudder with suppressed laughter, until it reaches an audible level. It's a bitter chuckle, laced with sincere amusement. Such a reaction was unexpected, and the Koopatrol did _not_ like it.

"How many times do I have to give you my answer?" The Toad chokes after his brief cachinnating. "Is it the language I'm using? What about my dialect, is it difficult to understand? I've studied many different tongues so _please_ tell me if you have a preference."

A few of the soldiers murmur in confusion. It was so odd to see a Toad behave in such a way. These troops were used to observing cowardice when dealing with their kind, not defiance. Any other of their prisoners would be begging to be spared and offer whatever they could if it meant keeping out of harm's way. But this guy had the gall to not only laugh at his captors, but talk _down_ to them?

Either that's the definition of bravery, or the definition of stupidity.

"Well? No one has an alternative language they'd rather me use?" The captive continues when no one responds. "I'll tell you the same thing I've been saying for nearly an hour in whatever tongue I can. English, French, German…hell, even a few native dialects of your own Kingdom! It doesn't matter how much you beat, cut, or threaten me, or even what language I use, my answer will be the same: I. Don't. _KNOW_."

Silence.

"I see…so you're sticking with that answer?" The Commander muses aloud, expression unreadable as he draws back his weapon and returns to a standing position.

The Toad realizes the Koopatrol isn't truly addressing him, but chooses to answer anyway.

"Yes, yes, a million times yes!" He growls with feigned impatience. Then, with an afterthought, adds: "Now would you be so kind as to have your creepy friend remove himself from my person? One of his hands is getting _way_ too friendly for my comfort."

The 'creepy friend', as the Toad chooses to call him, reacts to the crude remark rather violently. He swiftly slams the prisoner's face down hard into the unforgiving pavement, sending a wave a near blinding pain through the Toad's already sore body. His attacker then seizes one of his wrists and roughly pulls him to his feet, holding the captive high enough that his toes barely touch the ground. The Toad has no choice but to try and shift his weight to the tips of his toes, lest all the strain be put on his arm.

"How dare you speak to our commander that way!" The offender hisses, his voice shaking with fury. He then dives into a short rant, something about showing respect, but the captive doesn't hear a word of it. The Toad would be lying if he said his complete disregard for the trooper's words wasn't partly because of the agony now gripping his features, but mostly, he was trying to resist plunging into another fit of laughter. It was obvious the Koopatrol didn't care about the prisoner's outbursts, so this lecture was unnecessary. The soldier currently keeping the Toad in an uncomfortable position, however, was clearly the one riled up. It amused the captive to no end that his tasteless jabs were having such an extreme effect.

After the string of threats and insults finally finish, the Toad decides to make it a point that he didn't give two shits about what had just been said. He weakly turns his head to look up at his captor, a common Koopa Troopa, before flashing the winning combo of an obnoxious smile and wink. Oh what he'd give to see the rage that undoubtedly flared in the eyes behind those dark, concealing sunglasses.

The Koopa looks like he is about to say something else, either that or lash out again, but before he can do either, the trooper is cut off with a wave of the Koopatrol's hand.

"Though you have good intentions soldier, further antagonizing is not needed." The Commander states evenly. "I will take matters from here."

The Toad waits expectantly, wondering what the Koopatrol could possibly do or say to try and sway his mind. Surprisingly, the squad's leader doesn't address the prisoner at all. Instead, he turns to speak quietly with a few of his men, two of which leave after a hushed order, while the rest listen intently. A pounding headache keeps the captive from effectively eaves dropping, so he decides to dully examine his surroundings while the soldiers continue their exchange.

The Toad immediately regrets doing so, as the burning ruins of his homeland and the sight of the docks, housing boats that could have been the key to his freedom, prove too much to bare. He averts his eyes over to a section of a nearby garden that somehow avoided the destructive hand of the prior raids, hoping to find some peace in doing so. The prisoner's gaze travels over a large cluster of bushes, and halts when it meets a pair of eyes.

Wait…eyes?

In this world, it wasn't unusual for plant life, landscapes, and even inanimate objects to have eyes. But that wasn't what got the young Toad's attention. The eyes didn't belong to the bush, but to a _Toad_. He couldn't believe it, another Toad had escaped imprisonment. Perhaps, even, managed to avoid capture altogether.

An irrational hope suddenly floods the captive.

'_This guy could help me get free!'_ He mentally cheers._'There's still a chance I can get out of this alive!'_

The Toad fights the urge to grin as he looks around the crowd of enemy soldiers, imagining himself taking a few out with his apparent savior and breaking free from their grasp. By the time he is done taking in just how many troops have him surrounded, the joyful fluttering in his chest has been harshly replaced by sinking dread. The realization comes as a devastating blow. There were far too many troops, too heavily armed, to be taken down by two Toads, one of which being practically crippled.

When the prisoner meets the hidden Toad's eyes once more, he concludes that expecting this stranger to risk his life for someone he didn't even know was not only unfair, but unrealistic. The Toad cools his rising anger of the cruel situation, deciding even if he could not make it, he would at least try to offer help to the stranger who had been dealt a better hand. Before he can think of what to do first, he finds himself locked in a nonverbal conversation.

Frustration, confusion, that's what the captive sees in the stranger's eyes.

_'What do I do?'_ They seem to ask.

The Toad checks to make sure none of the soldiers are watching before giving his head a slight shake.

_'Nothing.'_ He answers.

More confusion. Even more frustration. Eyes are now pleading.

_'Nothing? But, there must be something I can do!' _A rough translation.

Another gentle shake.

_'No.'_He responds.

The stranger looks as if he's about to leave his cover anyway, but a hard warning glance stops him.

_'Don't.'_ The prisoner orders.

The hidden Toad's shoulder's slump and he briefly buries his face in his hands, hiding the agitation and helplessness etched into his features. When he regains composure, he returns his attention to the captive, expression asking another question.

_'What now?'_

The captured Toad isn't sure if he read that correctly, but it just seemed like the stranger was re-phrasing his initial inquiry. Instead of giving the same reply as before, the Toad thinks for a moment, deciding this may be the opportunity to offer help and make sure the determined youth didn't meet his fate.

He clears himself before mouthing his response.

_'When it's safe, get to the docks.'_

The stranger carefully observes the prisoner trying to convey his message. Though he seems to more or less get it the first run through, the captive repeats it a few more times just in case. The Toad may have been captured on his way to the docks, but that did not mean his original plan was no longer a good one. If the stranger waited until this squad parted, he could get to a boat and sail away. Destination: anywhere but this living hell.

If the hidden Toad visibly rejects the idea, the prisoner misses it, as the return of two soldiers redirect his attention. One carries what appears to be a camera, which he immediately begins setting up a few feet from their captive. The other soldier's possession remains a mystery, as he chooses to remain behind a cluster of troopers, effectively blocking the Toad's view.

Before the prisoner can even think to ask the Commander's motives, the Koopatrol moves to his side, angling himself so he may address both the Toad and the camera. The Koopa operating the camera directs a few soldiers out of the shot, then asks a few to stand behind the Commander and the trooper restraining their captive. When the camera operator is satisfied with the current frame, he signals the Koopatrol that he is ready. The Commander nods and offers a gesture of his own, indicating that he too was prepared to carry out their plan. Not a moment later, a red light on the camera blinks to life, and the Koopatrol takes a composing breath before turning his full attention to the recording device.

"Citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom, now under the command of King Bowser, ruler of the Darklands," he begins in a loud, even voice. "To my right, you may notice one of your comrades. A…guest, in our newly acquired land."

The Toad narrows his eyes as the Koopatrol gestures to his battered form, furious at the way he is labeled.

"We offered him mercy in exchange for a little cooperation. A fair trade if I must say. Our guest, however, chose to spit in the face of our kind offer. And, as you can see," The Commander slightly inclines his head toward the prisoner. "we dealt the appropriate response to such a barbaric act."

The captive glares at the squad leader with unmatched hatred. It took him a moment, whether that was due to a mind clouded with fear or anger, he wasn't sure, but the Toad finally knew the reason behind the over-the-top theatrics.

An example. These bastards were going to make an example of him.

"Despite this unsavory lack of manners," The Koopatrol continues. "we gave our unruly companion the opportunity to change his mind. His response?" The Commander sighs, as if exasperated by the disobedience of a child. "More defiance."

The Toad fights the urge to roll his eyes.

"If you assholes are going to kill me," he groans, irritation apparent. "Can we please skip this crap and just get to it?"

The soldier holding the prisoner squeezes his wrist painfully, causing the Toad to involuntarily cry out. The Koopatrol studies the captive with a blank expression before turning back to the camera. He offers the future audience an apologetic shrug with a look that speaks a silent message.

Prisoners, am I right?

The Commander quickly returns to a neutral position, then turns to address the Toad.

"In light of your constant rejection of our kindness, harsh punishment seems to be the only option now." The Koopatrol states, as if observing something as trivial as the weather. "However, in the name of the great King Bowser, I'm generously offering you one, final chance. If you provide the answer we seek, your past resistance will be over looked and you shall be spared. Now tell me…" He meets the captor's gaze, eyes cold and unnerving. "Where is the Princess?"

A question, asked so many times that night. A question that got the same answer each time. Was the squad leader _that_ unwilling to believe his prisoner didn't have the answer he sought after? No, he wasn't that dense. At this point, the Koopatrol truly believed in the Toad's honesty. The problem was, admitting that meant he and his squad had wasted precious time on a dead end. In other words, it meant failure.

Failure was _not_ an option.

So, for the sake of himself and that of his men, the Commander conceived a last minute plan that may spare them from severe punishment. He would make an example of this Toad. It would be filmed and then widely distributed, so that all those whom apposed the ruler of the Darklands would see how they dealt with defiance. Countless spirits would be crushed, he was sure of it.

King Bowser would be pleased.

The slightest bit of pity was felt by this Koopatrol. This Toad had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and, because of unfortunate circumstances, he would have to pay with his life. For a moment, he re-thinks his current course of action, but selfish thoughts win out in the end.

Better him than us.

A long pause passes before another word is spoken. The prisoner knows that the Commander wasn't truly asking that question again; he made it damn clear what his answer was before. This time the inquiry was for show, well, for the camera more accurately. When the Toad gives his response, his fate will be sealed, and then broadcasted for all to see. For a moment, he considers creating a fabrication. The prisoner could 'break down' and give up the secrets he had been so loyally 'guarding', sending the troops on a wild goose chase and providing him more time among the living. Of course, this would only prolong the inevitable and, probably make it infinitely worse.

If that was even possible, anyways.

No, the Toad was going to stick with his answer. He takes a deep breath, hoping to calm himself so his response wouldn't sound as rattled as he felt. The prisoner faces the camera, readying himself for whatever happens next.

"My answer remains the same." The captive speaks slowly, an attempt to keep any and all waver from his voice. "I do not know the location of the Princess." He turns to reflect the Koopatrol's nerve shattering glare. "Even if I did, I wouldn't so much as hint it. Not to you, not to the Koopa King himself."

The Toad prays furiously that he sounded braver than he felt. Though when he sees no hint of amusement in the Commander's features, he takes it that his performance was a success. Then again, the Koopatrol's expression is surprisingly neutral, so who knows what thoughts are swirling within that head?

"I suppose…it doesn't matter anymore whether or not you're telling the truth." The squad leader eventually sighs.

He signals to the soldier still standing behind a group of his troops, gesturing for him to bring forth his concealed possession. The crowd parts slightly, allowing the apparent errand boy to pass. He appears to be carrying a lengthy chain, which he allows most of to drag carelessly behind him. The Toad quirks an eyebrow as the trooper passes the peculiar item to his commander, wondering exactly how this scrap metal was supposed to end his game. Strangulation? Death by flogging? The former doesn't seem brutal enough for what they were trying to achieve, and the latter, while definitely horrifying, would take far too long. Sick to think about, but all valid points.

"Chains? Really?" The prisoner asks no one in particular. "You guys are into some kinky stuff."

The captive's remark is ignored, though he never intended to get a response in the first place. His crude humor this time around was a defense mechanism, for in all honesty, the poor Toad was utterly terrified. Sure, the prisoner had been aware of his captor's intentions from the start of this unnecessary performance, but now that they had reached the moment of truth, the protective wall he had built was beginning to crumble.

"Coming up with the right execution is not as easy as you might think." The Koopatrol begins, tone eerily nonchalant. "You have to think of practicality, efficiency…"

The Toad's mind blanks for a moment, a sudden wave of nausea making him feel as though he may be ill. Though the term 'unpleasant' doesn't properly describe the sensation, he finds himself oddly thankful for its brief distraction from the words of the twisted commander. When the prisoner is able to focus on the squad leader's sick rambling again, he nearly misses the 'Big Climax' that the Koopatrol had been eagerly building toward.

"Fortunately for me, I thought of a way to accomplish two tasks at once!" he hears the Commander gloat, praising his own 'genius' in an exaggerated manner. "On one hand, I have an ungrateful guest in need of a deadly lesson, and on the other…" The Koopatrol nods to the trooper who had given him the chain. Understanding the gesture, the soldier swiftly steps to the side, revealing a horrifying sight. "I have a very…_hungry_ pet."

The Toad's heart practically stops at the realization. How did he not figure it out sooner? Even though the troopers had effectively shielded this beast from sight, he should have figured that the chain was attached to _something_. Something like a weapon.

Something…like a _Chain Chomp_.

Being bitten by a Chomp is one of the most agonizing experiences imaginable. Though the Toad personally had never found himself locked in the jaws of one of those beasts, he had seen plenty of victims with terrible wounds, and even worse tales of the encounter. Being mauled by one of these creatures would be quick enough to make a point to the witnesses, yet slow enough to cause the victim excruciating pain before being taken by the swift hand of death. As disgusting as it is, the Commander's choice was perfect.

This execution will certainly leave an impression.

The prisoner is unable to hide the terror now gripping his entire being. Though his fear is plainly visible in his expression, to his credit, the Toad doesn't struggle, beg for mercy, or even weep. The captive desperately struggles to return to his former neutral, indifferent façade. He succeeds, though barely, before closing his eyes, unwilling to look at the Chain Chomp now salivating madly at the promise of a tasty meal.

The squad leader smirks slightly at the Toad's reaction and turns to the camera as he holds out the chain in his possession. His pet's 'leash' was very much slack, meaning the beast could have easily sprung on his prey at any given time. The Chain Chomp, however, was surprisingly well trained, and would never lunge from his master's side until given permission. This 'permission' was often in the form of a verbal command, but that wasn't always the case. Some situations called for nonverbal gestures, this being one of those situations, and the most common unspoken command was a simple release of the leash.

Taut or slack, it didn't matter, the beast would know.

"So, my dear Toad." The Commander purrs, sneering at his soon-to-be victim. "Is there anything you would like to say before we end your game? Final words perhaps?"

The prisoner lazily lifts an eyelid, trying his damnedest to appear bored.

"Yes, actually." He begins, slightly turning his head. "First, my name isn't Toad, like I'm sure your name isn't Koopatrol." A suppressed laugh from one of the Troops does not go unnoticed. "My name is Novel-T, though I go by Novel. Weird name, I'm aware, but I rather be called by my birth name than my species name in the face of death."

A few of the soldiers behind the squad leader allow their jaws to go slack. They still couldn't believe the captive was so eager to mouth off, even in his final moments.

"Secondly, or should I say lastly?…" The Toad asks no one in particular. He shakes his head before continuing. "Anyway, my last message is to both you and your…pet." The prisoner musters up his remaining courage as he locks eyes with the intimidating Chain Chomp. "I hope you choke on my flimsy, sharp, little Toad bones. But if that doesn't happen," He looks up at the Commander. "I hope I tear up his insides, and you get to clean up all the resulting shit."

More troops gawk at the Toad. His boldness continued to surprise them, even if his words were a bit weak. Though, in all fairness, your material would be lacking too if you were under such extreme stress.

The Koopatrol struggles to hide his irritation as he signals to the camera operator to edit that segment out later. Novel-T chuckles quietly as the squad leader furiously gestures to his men, ordering them to wipe away their gaping expressions. Once the Commander is satisfied, he composes himself and alerts the Koopa behind the camera that he is ready to continue.

"Let this example be a lesson to you all," The Koopatrol's voice booms, both powerful and ominous. "that resistance of any kind," He grins darkly, lifting his hand so the camera may clearly view the Chomp's metal leash. "will _not_ be tolerated."

The chain is released.

Time seems to slow down. The Toad barely flinches when he hears the only thing keeping the Chomp in place clatter noisily to the pavement. He takes a deep breath as a vicious growl reaches his ears, bracing himself for the inevitable. Closing his eyes, the prisoner chooses to distract himself from the beast preparing to lunge with his final thoughts.

_'Well, Novel. It's been a good run.' _

This seemed like an appropriate time for Novel-T's mind to play a cheesy run through of his entire life up until that point. Bittersweet? Moving? Not the words he would use. If anything, the summary of his existence was…dull.

_'Wow…that's more depressing than dy-AAARRRGHHH!' _

The Toad's spirit crushing thought process is cut short when he feels what he can only assume is a truck smashing into his chest. Though the force is enough to wrench the prisoner from his captive's grasp, Novel is far from free, the weight pressing him to the unforgiving street making sure of that. Concentration broken, the prisoner's eyelids lift to reveal impossibly sharp teeth mere inches from his face. Poor Novel-T is unable to keep up the brave façade any longer, and immediately cries out in fear as the Chomp's mouth opens, ready to take its first taste of this unfortunate meal.

"STOP_!_"

Not a plea of mercy, but a command, has all at this horrific scene confused. It was not the Toad that shouted this word. This order came from someone else, _outside_ of the squad. The Koopatrol shakes his head, cachinnating softly as he flicks a hand at his pet, telling it to hold off on its feast. Novel sighs audibly with relief, before sharing the baffled expressions of the surrounding Troops.

The Commander turns to face the direction the voice came from. "I'm sorry, what did you say stranger? I couldn't hear you over the scream of my cowardly friend."

The Toad glares daggers at the cruel squad leader. _'Let's see how brave __**you**__ are when something tries to eat __**you**__ alive!'_ He mentally spits.

"I said," The voice begins firmly, with a hint of hostility. "_Stop_."

The Koopatrol guffaws, truly amused by this unknown individual's daring words. A few of his men join in, though if they actually found it funny was another matter entirely. Novel-T rolls his eyes at their sheep like behavior, before turning his attention to something more important. Like, for example, mentally praising his apparent savior.

_'Who could it be?'_ He wondered. _'Who else is out here but… ' _His eyes widen with the realization. _'That other Toad!'_

"Call back your Chain Chomp." The voice sounds again once the laughter dies down. "Such a barbaric punishment shouldn't be carried out on anyone, much less a Toad who has done no wrong. You _will_ release him."

Novel quirks a brow at his savior's words. He agreed with what was being said, let that not be mistaken, but he found the phrasing…odd. That and the voice, though solid and commanding, sounded…surprisingly feminine. Not at all how he thought the Toad he discovered hiding in the bushes would sound.

While Novel-T's features convey befuddlement, The Commander's expression houses annoyance, as well as the beginnings of animosity. He narrows his eyes dangerously in the voice's direction, angered by the stranger's dauntless order.

"And who are you," The squad leader seethes, clearly agitated. "to command me or my men?"

The soldiers turn when the voice's source steps out of the shadows of a decimated building. A wave of gasps and murmurs quickly spread through the troops blocking the stranger from the sight of both Novel and the Koopatrol. The two share a puzzled look as the soldiers slowly begin parting to allow the newcomer's passage. When the stranger finally steps into view, the Commander and his prisoner near simultaneously rear back in surprise.

A tilt of the head. "I am the one you have been looking for am I not?" She curtsies, though it is obvious in her expression and exaggerated movements that it is a mocking, instead of polite, gesture. "I am the one and only, Princess Peach."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

So...pretty dark first chapter. XD

You lied Snazzy! This is supposed to be Adventure/Humor! Where's teh funny?! D: Seriously, Novel-T *giggle* hardly quenched my thirst for amusement! D%

Sorry folks, got pretty carried away with the *gestures wildly* "example" scene. We were supposed to meet our heroes this chapter and hop on the morbid giggle train but then I did this. XD Fear not! The fun is on its way :3

This story will have an odd balance of adventure, humor, and even some dark themes. *points to the chapter you just read* After all, how can funsies exist without seriousness? You'll understand if you decide to continue this odd tale.

Reviews are always welcome, whether you want to tell me what you like/dislike about the story or critique me as a writer.


	2. Tourist Trap

**Nintendo = Not mine.**

* * *

A dejected Toad watches helplessly from the cover of foliage as his Princess surrenders herself to the Darklandian squad. He casts the brave woman and the captured Toad one last glance as they are marched away, before he recedes further into the bush. There was nothing more he could do. He had been given an important task: protect the Mushroom Kingdom's ruler.

And he had failed.

"It's not your fault."

The Toad jumps, having forgotten that he was not alone. He shakes his orange spotted head and turns to the apparent mind reader, features expressing guilt.

"Yes it is. If I had not told her about what was happening—"

"And what?" The 'mind reader', a green spotted Toad, interrupts. "Let that guy be killed?"

"No! I just—"

"We would have done the same thing in your place." Yet another Toad, though with yellow spots, cuts in. "You can't beat yourself up over this."

The orange Toad sighs and tilts his head in defeat. His friends were right, he knew that, but he still couldn't help but wonder if there was something else he could have done. After his silent 'conversation' with the imprisoned Toad, the orange Toad had turned to his group and informed them of what was occurring but a few yards from their hiding place. His green and yellow companions wanted to help just as much as he did, but even they were stumped for a solution. The three of them, four if the prisoner was in any shape to fight, would not be enough to overcome this large of a group. Technically, there was one other in their party, but the three Toads were not about to risk the safety of said individual. Who is or, should I say, _was_ this person?

The very Princess being escorted to the tyrant behind this brutal attack, if it wasn't obvious enough.

Though the Toad triad had no ideas on how to intervene, the Princess, on the other hand, quickly came to her own conclusion. It was simple: she would surrender.

This suggestion was…not well met.

Her option sparked quite the argument, which escalated fairly quickly. In fact, if the Koopatrol had not been putting on his overdone performance, the group's bickering may have actually been heard. In the end, the Princess used her strong points to silence the stubborn Toads.

_"I'm not about to sit here and watch this disgusting execution when there is something I can do to stop it!"_ She had said. _"Besides, even if I decided to stay put, there's still a chance I'll be found anyway. As close as this squad is, we can almost guarantee it."_

The Toads couldn't conjure reasonable counters to her words. She was right. After all, what kind of ruler would she be if she just hid and watched the downfall of her people? Though being in the Koopa King's clutches was…unpleasant, for lack of a better word, at least she would be safe. More importantly, she could try and intervene with the tyrant's treatment of the Mushroom Kingdom's citizens.

But for how long?

Now that the Kingdom was without its heroes, Peach may be looking at an indefinite stay in Bowser's castle. With the Mario Brothers imprisoned, who was going to rescue the Princess this time? This very question was asked by the Toads, whose hopes were slim to none at the defeat of the seemingly invincible protectors. Her response, shooting for optimism but laced with doubt, is a plan. A plan that sounds incredibly simple, one that even a child could grasp. Bringing it to fruition, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. The Princess's plot? Get to the docks (as suggested by the captured Toad), grab a boat, and go look for another hero.

Brilliant. Achievable. Not a flaw to be found.

Sarcasm aside, who were the Toads to criticize? At least this "plan" got them off their asses and on the road to getting something accomplished. It beat sitting in a prickly bush waiting to be found and then locked away in a cell.

When the details were cleared and all protests were (unhappily) silenced, the Princess carefully crawled from the protection of the foliage and slipped quietly into the shadows of a nearby building. She did not yet want to draw attention to herself, fearing that if the squad were to see her emerge from her true hiding place, they may be tempted to search it and discover the loyal Toads. It was probably unlikely that such a thing would happen, seeing as the Princess was the prize, but she was not about to take that risk. The Toad's mission was hopeless enough as it is, no need to ruin it before their journey can even begin.

As Princess Peach calls out to the squad leader, the orange Toad finds himself plagued with conflicted emotions. Pride for his Princess's bravery, relief for the spared Toad, and frustration, because if he had been able to do something, Peach wouldn't have had to.

"Hey…"

The orange Toad looks up, seeing his friend's green spotted head revolve between him and an opening in the bush.

"Did you hear me? You kinda spaced out there."

The orange Toad shakes his head, clearing himself of his daze. "Sorry, I didn't." He mumbles.

"He said the squad is gone." The yellow Toad jumps in. "We need to leave now before anyone else shows up."

The orange Toad takes a deep breath and rises to his full height, exchanging a determined, yet weary look with his friends.

"Alright, I'm ready."

"Good." The green Toad allows himself a small smile. "Let's get this impossible mission underway."

* * *

Five days later…

* * *

A large wave crashes on the white sands of a seemingly empty beach, bringing with it meager deposits of seaweed and shells varying in color and shape. Smaller, lighter waves lap at island's perimeter, creating a soothing rhythm only occasionally broken by the rumble of a massive wave colliding with land. A gentle breeze rustles the foliage bordering the peaceful beach, adding yet another note to this island's relaxing symphony.

"Ahh…"

A sigh of content, emanating from the only resident on this part of the island. It is a Yoshi, comfortably reclined in a fold out lounging chair facing the pristine waters of the colossal ocean encompassing his island home. One hand delicately cups a glass filled to the brim with a brightly colored exotic drink, complete with decorative umbrella. The other hand finds home behind the Yoshi's head, acting as support, only abandoning this duty to occasionally adjust a dark pair of protective sunglasses.

The native expertly sips from the straw of the beverage without so much as tilt of the head. Another content sigh is clearly heard, having no competition other than a light wind and the gentle lapping of waves.

"This…" The Yoshi breathes, talking to no one in particular. "There's just no beating it."

Whether the fruit eater was referring to the view or his tasty beverage, it is unclear. His relaxed demeanor, however, is quite obvious. Soon after his declaration, a flock of seagulls fly overhead, their cries completing the soundtrack of the island. The Yoshi groans and lazily swats in the direction of the talkative birds.

"Ugh, go _away!_" He whines, staring at the airborne creatures drifting apathetically wherever the breeze commanded.

The native Yoshi was actually fond of birds, if one could believe it after witnessing this display, but that favor was rarely directed toward the beach dwelling avains. For some reason, the mere sight of a gull would put a damper on his mood. Why? Not even he knew.

An island sure is the perfect place to live if you can't stand seagulls.

The Yoshi vocalizes his displeasure, grumbling something about how the gulls weren't supposed to fly around this side of the island, before closing his eyes and focusing on the sounds of the ocean, attempting to tune out the flying ailments. In doing so, the islander has unknowingly put himself in a great deal of danger. For at that moment, an unfriendly face peers ominously from the shadows of a large bush mere yards behind the oblivious native.

The stranger bears a white, emotionless mask streaked with red tribal markings. A red robe covers his body, though from the waist down a grass skirt sways with even the tiniest movement. He raises a spear clutched tightly in both hands, examining the tip, making sure it is as sharp and deadly as on the day of its creation. The unnerving creature looks over his shoulder at a group, whose appearance is eerily similar to his own, signaling that it was time to make their move.

They had a job to do.

* * *

Earlier that day…

* * *

A stiffly composed Koopatrol makes his way through a dim, cavernous tunnel, weaving around the occasional stalagmite in a well-practiced manner. It's as if he's walked this path his entire life, when in reality it has only been a few days. Coordination and grace were one of the many qualities this high ranking soldier proudly boasted to his subordinates, whether they wanted to hear his pride filled rambling or not. The Koopa Troopa trailing the arrogant superior, unfortunately, did not seem to share these prized traits. He frequently fumbles and narrowly avoids tripping over the smaller stalagmites as he struggles to keep up with the pace of the quick moving Koopatrol. In all fairness, the Koopa's apparent clumsiness was not entirely his fault. The soldier had time and again complained that the regulation sunglasses his kind were required to wear were not appropriate for poorly lit areas as, obviously, it hindered their vision even more. Sadly, yet not that all surprising, his grievances were ignored.

After all, looking cool was more important than practicality.

The Koopatrol sighs as his underling trips on the uneven cavern floor, deciding to slow down so that the 'less gifted' individual may keep up. He waits, watching as the Koopa frantically scoops up the important documents that had scattered during his fall. Crumpled papers in hand, the frazzled soldier swiftly stands before rushing so that he is but a few feet behind his commander. The cavalier superior turns and continues through the winding tunnel, not bothering to look back at the frustrated Koopa as he breaks the silence with a question.

"Status update. How is the progress for island recruitment?" His voice more commanding than inquisitive.

The Koopa jumps slightly, startled by how loud the Koopatrol's voice sounded in the enclosed space. He hastily sifts through the papers, searching for the document with the right information. When the Koopa finds it, he can't help but curse silently at the small print. Normally this wouldn't be that bothersome, but combining the annoyances of a dim room and even darker sunglasses made for less than ideal reading conditions. Hoping his leader wouldn't take notice, the nervous soldier tilts up his shades and squints at the writing, clearing his throat before speaking.

"We're ahead of schedule." He eventually replies, relieved when his voice doesn't waver. "All the native tribes have joined King Bowser's army."

The slightest smile graces the arrogant leader's features. This was excellent news indeed. His expression returns to a neutral state when a new thought crosses his mind. There had been a strong resistance from one tribe in particular, so it seemed odd that they would have such a drastic change of heart. The Koopatrol decides to speak again, if only to clarify his subordinate's original statement.

"All of the tribes? Even the Ravens?"

The Koopa checks the document again, looking for anything involving the Ravens. He frowns at the misleading wording, silently criticizing whoever drafted the recording.

"Excuse the error sir, it seems the record was referring to the 'hostile' native tribes." He begins, hoping his superior would understand the mishap was not of his own doing. "The Ravens are still listed as a resistance. I'm afraid we can't pin them down."

A grunt echoes through the tunnel. The Koopatrol was right to have sought clarity. The prospect of the Ravens willingly joining forces was too good to be true.

"Hmm…King Bowser will not be pleased." He mutters to himself. "No matter, we just rounded up all of the Yoshi Villagers. He should be satisfied with that bit of news for now."

The Koopa is unable to stop a soft hiss at this statement. There was yet another unpleasant correction he needed to make.

"Erm…Actually sir," The soldier gulps. "we _don't_ have all of the Yoshi Villagers."

The cool, collective composure of the Koopatrol is immediately broken.

"_WHAT?!_" He bellows, furious voice painfully loud as he turns on his subordinate.

The nerve shot Koopa flinches at his superior's violent reaction. He was expecting a negative response, but nothing like this.

"I-I checked their population records and d-did a head count." He stutters, gesturing to one of the papers clutched in his hand. "We're missing one of the villagers."

"We swept that entire area! _Twice!_" The Koopatrol hisses with rage. "How is it possible that one of them got away?!"

The quivering soldier takes a calming breath, redirecting his gaze to the remaining documents. After a quick search, he retrieves a map of the island and studies it carefully. When the subordinate feels confident enough to voice his theory, he looks back to his commander and points to the map as he speaks.

"Perhaps our missing native was never there in the first place." The Koopa begins, gesturing to the Yoshi Village's location. "None of our captives have mentioned this individual, though whether that's out of protection or lack of caring is anyone's guess."

The fuming leader suddenly closes the gap between the two, cutting off further words with his uncomfortably close proximity. His subordinate takes a step back, startled by the Koopatrol's aggression.

"I don't care about this guy's popularity," He barks. "I want to know his current location!"

"I can't say for sure, but if he or she hasn't been spotted yet, then we may try searching the previously unmarked side of the island." The Koopa holds up the map like a shield, shakily pointing to the area in question. "Shall I send a request for a recovery squad, sir?"

The commander turns abruptly on his heel, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

"And risk Bowser finding out about our screw up? Besides, most of that part of the island has yet to be explored." He allows his arms to drop to his sides, shoulders drooping. "It would take our men forever to find anyone in that mess."

The Koopatrol brings a hand to his chin, contemplating his remaining options. After a few moments he grins, having formulated a solution, and casts a look over his shoulder.

"You know, this is the perfect opportunity to test our new recruits. I want you to rally a group of Spear Guys and-"

"Wait," The Koopa interrupts rather boldly. "You want me to send _Spear Guys_?"

"Of course." His superior confirms, oddly unbothered by the cut off. "The Spear Guys are native to this island and, thus, more familiar with these dense jungles. They will have much better luck finding this missing Yoshi than us."

"No, I get that I just…" The soldier trails off, head shaking. "Do you really think we can trust them to catch this guy?"

"Who said anything about capturing?" A cruel sneer twists the Koopatrol's features. "Bowser has plenty of those fruit-eating lizards for his experiments."

He continues down the dreary cavern, not bothering to check if the Koopa was following.

"I'm sure he won't care If one of them…'doesn't make it' to the first trials."

* * *

The Spear Guy scout slowly emerges from his hiding place in the thick vegetation, being careful as to not create too much noise with the rustling of leaves. Fortunately for him, the steady breeze disturbing the surrounding foliage would conceal any mistakes, making his caution almost unnecessary. That, and the fact the Yoshi native was so zoned out he probably wouldn't notice anyway.

The remaining Spear Guys file out at their leader's signal, each moving just as fluidly as the first. Once the entire group has exited the Jungle's fringe, they arrange themselves in a tight formation behind their leader, awaiting further direction.

Yet again, unnecessary behavior.

The large group had only been assembled so that more ground could be covered to find the missing Yoshi. No one, not the Spear Guys, not the even Koopatrol that ordered this search, believed this many troops would be needed to take the native down. It was only a Yoshi, a race that firmly believed in upholding peace. If an entire village was rounded up so easily, dealing with one should be no problem.

The Spear Guy leader takes several light steps toward his target, readying his spear as he ponders where to strike his victim. From the side? It would be easier to see his target, but then he runs the risk of being spotted. There were many other options to consider, but in the end the native decides to simply throw his weapon through the back of the victim's chair. The material seemed flimsy enough to cooperate, so there wasn't any concern that the point wouldn't be able to puncture the cheap mesh. And at this close range?

There was no missing.

Light glints off the spear's tip as it is drawn back in preparation to be thrown. The Spear Guy quickly calculates the best angle before launching his weapon as hard as he can, watching as it arcs toward the oblivious Yoshi. A gust of wind slightly alters the projectile's course, causing it to miss dead center of the chair's back and instead pierce it slightly off to the left. The mask wearing native is about to groan his displeasure, believing to have done the impossible and missed, when he hears a startled cry emanate from the target. He watches as the Yoshi drops a tropical beverage to the sand as his arm begins to twitch wildly. The limb suddenly goes still and hangs limply over the chair's armrest. The victim slumps to the side, motionless.

It wasn't perfect, but the spear hit its goal.

A sinister grin is well hidden behind the hostile's emotionless mask. He turns to his followers and motions for them to stay put as he goes to approach the deceased. It seems without a shadow of a doubt they had succeeded, but the Spear Guy leader needed to be sure. Before his group departed, it would be wise to check the Yoshi's vitals.

Arrogantly strolling to the left side of the victim, he unceremoniously takes the lifeless limb in hand, tilting the wrist towards him. The Spear Guys only just places his hand to check for a pulse when the appendage violently twists from his grip. Completely caught off guard, the native is unable to react when the hand of the "deceased" finds itself clutched tightly around the Spear Guy's neck. The cries of shock from the tribe members drown out his own as he looks up at the surprise assailant.

Had the leader bothered to even glance at the Yoshi, he would have noticed that the spear had in fact _not_ impaled the target's torso. The slight course correction of the weapon missed the fruit-eater's vitals completely, instead, piercing just under the native's raised arm. The Yoshi did not go unscathed, however, as the spear's edge managed to graze his side, the trickle of blood a stark contrast to the native's green skin. The wound is notable, but not at all life threatening.

"Did you seriously just fall for that?" The Yoshi chides, raising an eyebrow (or the closest thing to such a display, seeing as his kind do not really have eyebrows.) as he removes his sunglasses with his free hand.

The Spear Guy meets the brilliant blue eyes of the Yoshi, thankful that his mask shielded his undoubtedly dumbfounded expression from view. He couldn't believe what he just witnessed. His target had swiftly reacted in such an unexpected way. Anyone else, Yoshi or otherwise, would have at the very least been startled by an attempt at their life. This guy not only kept his cool, but faked his death so his foes would let down their guard.

Who the hell was this Yoshi?

"Huh, you seem surprised." The Yoshi tilts his head as he points out the obvious. "You and your friends must not have crossed paths with me before. Weird, I didn't think there were any Spear Guys on this side of the Island that haven't at _least_ heard of The Great-"

He trails off, shaking his head.

"Wow, don't _I _sound like I'm full of myself? Anywho, what were we talking about?"

The Spear Guy looks to his comrades, who are busy exchanging confused glances, before making a subtle gesture, signaling a retaliation. It doesn't go unnoticed, however, as the odd Yoshi narrows his eyes at the leader's actions.

"Oh, I see. No more talking. Fine with me."

The fruit-eater smoothly rises from his chair, still keeping the Spear Guy firmly in his grip. The native leader gags as he is lifted from the ground, causing his followers to hesitate in their attack.

"D-don't hold back b-because of me!" He chokes, struggling to turn his head to face the wary group. "Take this guy o-out!"

"Here, I'll make this easier for them." The Yoshi rolls his eyes, pulling out the spear still embedded in his chair.

He walks a few yards off to the side and sets the Spear Guy leader down beside a coconut tree. Before the native can try and escape, the Yoshi swiftly plunges the spear through the mask wearer's robe, successfully pinning him to the tree without dealing any harm. The Yoshi native mutters a short 'stay put' before returning to his position by the chair.

"There, your boss is out of the way." He waves impatiently. "Go nuts."

The Spear Guys don't need to be told twice. The Yoshi barely finishes speaking before the natives hurl their spears near simultaneously at their target. Before the deadly weapons can connect, the fruit-eater fluidly pulls his reclining fold out chair in front of him like a shield. A few spears strike the ground around the Yoshi, but the rest impale the surprisingly sturdy lounging furniture, leaving the native unharmed. The native doesn't give the Spear Guys a moment more to react, charging at them as he turns the chair so the sharp points of the imbedded spears faced his foes. In one swift motion, he lifts the unintentionally created weapon into the air and brings it down hard on the heads of the tightly clustered natives, killing them all instantly.

And just like that, it's over.

The Spear Guys leader gapes at the victorious Yoshi, frozen with emotions that words like "shocked" don't even begin to properly describe. His men, all of them, had been killed. In one move. By one creature. A species that was universally known to be peaceful.

A label that did not apply to this opponent.

Without a word, the Yoshi turns away from the gruesome scene and trots over to his original place of lounging. The fruit-eater scoops up the fallen glass that once contained his beverage and moves to approach the pinned Spear Guy, now shaking with fear. The native leader flinches when his foe drops to a squat but an arm's length away, peering at him with a surprisingly neutral expression. His entire body tenses when the Yoshi lifts the glass to eye level, unsure what this gesture might entail.

"What is this?" The Yoshi asks, tone even.

The Spear Guy tilts his head, genuinely confused by the strange question.

"A…u-uh…healing elixir that looks suspiciously like an alcoholic beverage?" He stammers.

"Wha—?" The Yoshi snorts in amusement. "No, you're thinking of a Tasty Tonic."

He shakes the mostly empty glass, drawing attention to it yet again.

"_This_," The Yoshi emphasizes. "is all that's left of a delicious concoction that brought me immeasurable happiness. A drink that satisfied my thirst. A drink…that _you_ ruined!"

The tribe leader squeaks in surprise when the fruit-eater breaks the glass against the tree he was pinned to, allowing what little liquid remained to dribble onto his mask.

'_This guy's a freaking lunatic!' _the native mentally cries as he blubbers nonsensically for forgiveness.

"It was an accident! I-I'm sorry! I d-didn't mean for you to spill your drink! I was just trying-"

"To kill me?" The Yoshi deadpans.

"What? N-no!" The Spear Guy leader lies desperately. "Why would I—"

"Oh calm down." The fruit-eater interrupts yet again. "You're not the first Grass Skirt that tried to do me in."

The Spear Guy blinks, befuddled by the startling news and the odd nickname assigned to his people. Seriously, who was this guy?

"You are, however, the first that was stupid enough to attack me in my territory." The native continues, tone growing dark. "Most know better than to violate the terms of the Island's treaty. We, the Yoshi tribes, stay on the beach and the jungle's fringe, you, Spear Guys and whatever else, stay in the jungle and/or volcano. Simple stuff. Even kids know it!"

The native leader was well aware of the treaty, and had no need to hear the Yoshi's over simplified explanation of its details. Still, he could not help but gulp as the fruit-eater continued, having an idea where this lecture was headed.

"If one is to trespass on another's land, the truce is rendered temporarily null, and the offender becomes free game." The Yoshi picks up a shard from the shattered glass and brings it to the throat of the pinned native. "The offended, can deal out whatever punishment they deem appropriate."

As predicted, the Spear Guy leader finds him thrown into hysteria. It finally made sense why the other Spear Guy tribes refused this mission. He had thought they were cowards, or that they didn't want to risk screwing up and angering King Bowser. No, they just knew better than to mess with the one crazy, violence prone Yoshi on this Island.

Those assholes didn't even warn him.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" The native leader cries, struggling to get free. "You were supposed to be an easy kill! I never would have agreed to this if I had known that—"

"Wait, what do you mean _agreed_? Someone put you up to this?"

"I knew I should have never joined them!" The Spear Guy continues, ignoring the question. "Things were just fine until they showed up!"

"When who showed—Will you just calm down and tell me what the hell is going on?!"

Again the fruit-eater is ignored, his words falling on deaf ears. When the Yoshi moves to restrain the distraught native, he only thrashes more wildly, causing the glass shard to accidentally cut across his mask and leave a shallow scratch. The Yoshi groans, fearing that he may have to resort to the cliché of delivering a composing slap, when a cacophony of voices captures his attention.

"_LAND HO_!"

"Yes. We see the land."

"_LAND HO!"_

"Uh-huh, that it is. Hasn't changed since you last mentioned it.

"_LAND HO!"_

"For the love of all the stars in Star Haven! We get it! We've seen the Island since it appeared on the damn horizon! _STOP POINTING IT OUT_!"

The native Yoshi whips around, scanning the sea for the unexpected arrivals. He spots a shabby boat slowly approaching, no more than a couple of minutes from reaching the island's shore. The fruit-eater can't help but gawk at the sight; it had been quite some time since this part of the island received visitors. His shock at the foreigners provides the perfect distraction for the Spear Guy leader, whom pulls free of the spear at the cost of a tear in his robes. The Yoshi turns at the sound of ripping fabric, but failing reflexes prevent him from grabbing hold of his escaping prisoner.

"Damn it!" The fruit-eater swears in frustration, watching his only lead escape into the thick foliage of the nearby jungle. He could try to pursue, but for all he knew there could be something else lurking beyond the dense vegetation, waiting to strike. Until the Yoshi was properly prepared, he wasn't about to leave the beach.

Besides, he had company.

'_Wait. Company…'_ The native turns to the grisly remains of the Spear Guy tribe. _'Oh shit.'_

Seemingly forgetting the seriousness of what had transpired, the Yoshi clumsily runs over to the unpleasant sight and begins rapidly throwing sand over the bodies. This act was not in respect for the departed, but a desperate attempt to hide the gruesome scene from his quickly approaching guests. As stated, tourists did not journey to this side of the island very often. The last thing the fruit-eater wanted was to scare away potential customers with a pile of dead natives.

Such an inconvenience. Why couldn't his foes have made an attempt on his life at a later time?

The Yoshi awkwardly stands back and circles the shallow grave, making sure none of the corpses were visible. It was a poor job to say the least, parts of the chair remained exposed along with most of the spears, though the embedded victims were more or less covered. What could he say? He didn't have enough time for a _proper_ burial.

Not a moment later, the scraping of wood against sand alerts the Yoshi that the visitors had finally reached the shore. He turns in their direction and takes a calming breath, praying that his guests would not ask about the sandcastle-esque abomination disrupting the beach's otherwise pristine condition. The native strolls confidently to their position, fishing a crumpled paper from the lining of his blue saddle.

'_I hope the revised version will make a better impression.'_ He muses, studying the writing on the parchment.

The Yoshi opens his mouth to speak, when he realizes the tourists, whom were thoroughly absorbed in their own conversation, had not yet noticed his presence. He goes to clear his throat to gain their attention, but stops, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I never want to set foot on that boat _ever_ again." A Toad with a green spotted cap groans, plopping down onto the sand.

Another Toad, cap spotted with yellow, kisses the beach in an exaggerated fashion. He gags, having accidently gotten sand in his mouth, before collapsing on his back.

"I'm right there with yah." The yellow Toad agrees, enthusiastically making a 'sand angel' as he speaks. "I never thought I would miss being on land _this_ much."

The green Toad chuckles, amused by his companion's antics, before another voice redirects his attention.

"Whoa! What are you two doing?" The third and final Toad, donning a cap of orange spots, cries, jumping out of their meager ship.

"We're…sitting?" The green Toad replies, tone conveying confusion. "Well, I am anyway. He's currently making a pretty damn impressive sand angel."

The yellow Toad beams proudly at the praise, exaggerating his arm movements further to extend the wingspan of his 'angel'.

"I can see that." The orange Toad growls in irritation. "What I want to know is why you're lazing about when we have work to do?!"

The green Toad narrows his eyes, clearly not appreciating his friend's words.

"Lazy? We've done nothing but rowing for the past four hours! Not to mention the constant running, jumping, climbing, and any other hellish exertion you can think of in the days before that! I think taking a moment to relax is hardly out of the question."

"_Relax?"_ The orange Toad parrots, flailing his arms wildly. "It's been five days. _Five days!_ And we've hardly accomplished anything! How can we relax in a time like this?! "

"Running us ragged won't make the situation any better." The green Toad hisses, rising to meet the glare of his agitated companion. "It won't matter if we find what we're looking for if we're too weak to do anything about it!"

The yellow Toad sits up, nervously watching the escalating argument. After a few more heated exchanges, he tries to interfere.

"Um, guys? I don't think—"

"Are you questioning my strategy?" The orange Toad continues, ignoring the yellow Toad's futile attempt to interrupt.

"Yes, I am." The green Toad eagerly shoots back. "I don't ever recall electing you leader, so I don't see any reason for your word to be law."

A short moment later, the verbal jabs turn physical, and the yellow Toad can only sit back in shock as his friends ruthlessly attack each other. The surprise quickly wares off, and, not one to be left out, the yellow foreigner shrugs half-heartedly before jumping into the fray.

The native tilts his head with a blink, watching as the scrap is swiftly veiled by a cloud of sand and dust. He sighs as he looks to the ground, perplexed by the behavior of his strange visitors. The Yoshi moves to break up the squabble when something strikes him across the face, sending him stumbling back where he eventually lands in an undignified heap. He shakes his head, attempting to clear himself of his daze, before noticing the offending object lying in the sand off to the side. The fruit-eater carefully scoops it up, inspecting the 'weapon' with a raised eyebrow.

'_The hell?' _

The projectile looked like a symbol off of a keyboard. Something like what one would see in older cartoons or comics when a character was censored or when a fight broke out. Come to think of it, when the Yoshi looked back at the quarrelling Toads, the thickness of the cloud surrounding them seemed unreal. Even more symbols, similar to the one clutched in his hand, were flying from the scuffle.

_Exactly_ like a cartoon.

The native shakes his head again before dropping the strange object.

'_Geez, I must have gotten hit harder than I thought…'_

Getting to his feet, the Yoshi brushes himself off and turns back to the somewhat comical scene. He carefully avoids the 'projectiles' as he approaches the Toads, calling for them to end the ridiculous battle. When no one shows signs of hearing, the fruit-eater takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated, before yelling to gain attention.

"HEY!"

The fighting immediately stops.

The Yoshi angrily meets the eyes of every Toad, each humorously frozen in an attacking pose. When the native is sure he has their attention, his features soften before shifting into a smile. He raises the paper, which he somehow kept hold of even after being struck, to eye level and clears his throat, preparing to read its contents.

"Welcome to the beautiful and exotic Lava Lava Island!" The Yoshi chirps cheerfully, gesturing to his lifelong home. "My name is insert name here, and I will be your guide today! Turn to guests and smile."

The Yoshi offers an overly enthusiastic grin, unaware that he hadn't said his real name and that he had read his instructions aloud. Still frozen in the same positions, the Toads exchange a slight glance before looking back at the odd native.

"Here on Lava Lava Island, we offer many exciting, fun, and relaxing activities! For sight seers, I can take you on a tour via bo—" The Yoshi trails off, remembering his visitors complaining about their boat ride. He quickly skips to the next suggestion. "For adventure seekers, I can lead you through the treacherous jungle, where we will eventually stop at the edge of the ever active volcano. Here I can take your photo, for a small fee of course, so you may show your friends and family that you braved the fierce wilderness and made it to the heart of the Island!"

The Toads stare quietly, unblinking, as the Yoshi continues to ramble on about various tours and activities. Eventually, they share a glance, each silently asking the same question.

'_Are we in the right place?'_

"Of course," The Yoshi continues, not noticing the bewildered looks of the foreigners. "If excitement and adventure is not what you seek, I will happily escort you to the other side of the Island."

The Toads can't help but notice the drastic change of tone, like someone asking a question they know will receive a disappointing answer.

"There you may partake in our famous spa treatments and pick out a few souvenirs." He sighs. "All at reasonably low prices."

An awkward silence envelopes the group.

"So!" The Yoshi speaks after sometime, rebuilding his cheerful façade. "How may I be of assistance? Questions maybe? Is there anything you need help with?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I can totally see Lava Lava Island becoming a tourist trap can't you?

...

Yes? No? Maybe? XD

Ugh. The first part of this chapter with the Toads is utter poo. D: Meh. Had to get it out of the way. Now we're moving on to the good (hopefully) stuff!

Our heroes finally meet! A violent, wacko Yoshi and three Toads with varying personalities. We only have a vague idea of what they look like and we don't even know their NAMES! What kind of a writer am I?! %D

An odd one.

What has happened in the five days since this whole mess started? Why are the Toads even on this island anyway? Worry not confused readers, all will be revealed in due time. (Seriously, what kind of story answers all the questions in the first couple chapters?)

Reviews are always welcome, whether you want to tell me what you like/dislike about the story or critique me as a writer.


	3. First Impressions

The gawking Toads gaze at the peculiar native for quite some time, clearly having trouble processing the unusual pitch for various vacation plans. They had gone over scenario after scenario on what they may encounter after arriving on the island, but avoiding a tourist trap wasn't one of them. (Seriously, was this the right place?) The green capped Toad was just about to politely decline the fruit eater's offer when he was struck by an idea. Or, more accurately, a realization.

Didn't that Yoshi just offer them a tour to the _volcano_?

"Actually…" He finally voices. "Yes!"

The green capped Toad releases his grip on the orange Toad's shirt, causing the latter to drop to the sand with a less than dignified yelp. The yellow capped Toad, whom had somehow put _himself_ in a headlock, lessens his hold as he curiously watches his friend approach the eager Yoshi.

"This jungle tour you mentioned earlier," The Toad begins, gesturing to the lush vegetation behind the native. "Just how close will you be taking us to the volcano?"

The Yoshi beams at the inquiry, causing the green Toad to visibly flinch. He didn't think it was possible for that grin to grow any larger.

"Usually I have to follow the safety guide for the set distance, but that's mostly for large tour groups." The fruit-eater replies casually, flashing a thin manual he quickly retrieves from the lining of his saddle. The Toad can't help but note the booklet's pristine condition, like it had never been opened. "But for you guys?" The Yoshi continues, carelessly tossing the guide over his shoulder. "I'll take you as close as you want."

The green capped Toad eyes the discarded manual with a quirked eyebrow, silently questioning the competence of the native before him.

"You three have nothing to worry about." The Yoshi hurriedly adds, as if sensing the Toad's unease. "I practically know every tree, rock, and bush by name in this jungle, so there's no worry of us losing our way. As for the volcano…" He chuckles lightly. "I wouldn't let you anywhere near it if I didn't think we could handle it."

The green Toad wasn't entirely convinced, but the fruit eater's confidence was hard to ignore. And though the foreigner didn't like to make assumptions based on appearances, the native _looked_ like he could traverse the harsh jungle easily enough. He was used to the Yoshi's in his home town, whom were usually short and pudgy, but this particular specimen was slightly taller than average and a bit on the lean side. The green capped visitor dully wonders if all island Yoshi's were like this, but his attention is quickly drawn to an abnormality.

'_Green Yoshi, blue spikes…huh.'_

Odd, yes, but a slightly different color scheme doesn't have anything to do with ability. Then again, didn't the Mario Brothers change color with certain power ups?

The Mario Brothers…

The foreigner shakes his head, not wanting to dwell on the thoughts of the Mushroom Kingdom's heroes. He looks back to the native, noting something else unusual for the latter's race when his gaze settles on the Yoshi's right arm.

'_Is…that a __**tattoo**__?' _

The native's right arm did indeed bare a tattoo. Or, more accurately, a _sleeve_ of sorts. The markings were tribal in nature; the forearm was stamped with a large, stylized foot print of a bird and the remaining upper arm was adorned with a ring of feathers, varying in size, shape, and design. It surprised the visitor that a Yoshi would even consider sporting ink, because it seemed…

Tough?

He wasn't proud of it, but the green capped Toad often struggled with the preconceived notion that tattoos were for 'tough' guys, gang members, or obnoxious teens wanting to 'rebel'. Though he often thought tribal tattoos were quite beautiful, it irked him to see the designs plastered on the skins of ignorant boobs who got them simply because they 'look cool' instead of a more significant reason.

He _really_ hoped this Yoshi wasn't one of those tools.

"—and that's what we would do in the case of a volcanic eruption." The Yoshi concludes, smiling at the pondering foreigner. "So, any more questions before we get ready for the tour?"

The green capped Toad jolts, suddenly aware of the native's voice.

'_Wait…had he been talking this __**entire**__ time?' _

"Uh…" The visitor blanks, embarrassed that he had gotten so lost in his own thoughts that he missed…whatever the native had been prattling on about. "I think I—" A hand gripping the foreigner's shoulder startles him, effectively ending his attempt to cover up his lack of attentiveness. The Toad turns to the offender and begins bumbling nonsensically at the sight of his orange capped companion.

"Would you excuse us for just a moment please?" The orange Toad asks the native just a bit too sweetly before herding his friend away, not bothering to wait for an answer.

The orange capped captor none so gently escorts the green capped Toad back to their shabby aquatic vessel, ignoring any and all complaints emanating from his irritated compatriot. When he feels the two are out of the Yoshi's hearing range, he wastes no time beginning the angrily whispered interrogation.

"_What the hell do you think you're doing?!"_ The orange Toad seethes. _"We are here on a mission! Not to schedule tours for a vacation!"_

"_**Vacation? **__Do I look like an idiot?! " _The green Toad snaps, struggling to keep his temper in check. Before his companion can reply with the obvious retort, he continues to elaborate. _"I just set up a sure way to get us to the volcano."_

The orange capped Toad gives his friend a quizzical look.

"_Sure way? We already have one! This map shows us the route we need to take to the entrance!"_ He retrieves a folded map from his pocket and waves it about, as if it to illustrate his point.

"_I know, I know, but…I realized something."_ The green Toad glances at the map clutched tightly in his companion's hands. _"Everyone knows about that entrance, so it's bound to be swarming with guards."_ He raises a silencing hand when his friend tries to speak. _"That's not the part I realized. We were all aware of this."_ When the orange Toad remains quiet, he continues. _"This Yoshi is native to the island, and, from the sound of it, very familiar with the jungle and volcano."_

He chances a look at the fruit-eater, who seemed to be dividing his attention between them and the jungle's edge, before meeting the puzzled gaze of his friend.

"_Maybe…maybe he knows of another way into the volcano. One that no one else knows about. If such a thing exists, we can try to convince him to show us the path. No extra guards to fight and one less obstacle to overcome."_

The orange Toad's eyes widen.

"_That's…"_ He grins. _"That's a really freakin' good idea."_

The green capped Toad can't help but smile as well, anger from the earlier squabble forgotten.

"_Yeah, but only __**if**__ there is another entrance."_ He briefly turns to the jungle. _"Of course, having a guide will prove useful regardless. I'm willing to take just about anything we can get at this stage."_

The orange Toad nods his agreement, a thoughtful expression suddenly donning his features.

"_So, what do we do if he starts asking questions when we get to our destination? It sounds like the tour ends __**at**__ the volcano, not in it."_

The green Toad's grin turns sheepish.

"_I…actually haven't thought that far ahead."_ He admits.

"_Why don't we just tell him the truth?"_

The orange and green capped Toads jump in surprise, not expecting a suggestion from another party. They turn in unison to the yellow capped Toad, who apparently had sat between them at some point in the conversation. The third member of their group lazily lifts a brow, looking rather bored, before asking again when no one replies.

"_Well, why don't we?"_

The two Toads look at their friend as though he were insane, a look he was quite used to, before deciding to answer.

"_Uh,"_ The orange Toad starts with a bitter chuckle. _"For the very reason it's just the three of us right now?"_

"_He's right."_ The green capped Toad concurs with a sigh. _"Honesty hasn't earned us a single ally. If we want any chance at this new approach succeeding, I'm afraid a little deception is necessary."_

The yellow Toad glances blankly at the two before shrugging.

"_If that's what you want. I'm just saying that lies are pretty stressful. Weaving that intricate web tends to be more trouble than it's worth."_

The two Toads blink at their companion's rare moment of wisdom. Was this the same guy who seemed to take bliss from normally being unable to form a coherent thought?

* * *

After the strange Toads excused themselves, the Yoshi could only watch them quietly bicker like an old married couple for so long before he lost interest. He allows his gaze to travel over the soft, white sand, taking in its undisturbed beauty, until it lands on the unsightly "sandcastle". The native blinks, remembering what the morbid mound concealed. He looks to the Toads lost in their own conversation, then to the jungle's edge.

"…Aw hell."

In the fruit eater's excitement at potential customers, he had completely forgotten about the Spear Guys and their attempt on his life. Well, facing dangerous natives was nothing new, and these guys had obviously been taken care of, but what the Yoshi didn't know was what _else_ may be lurking in the jungle. The words of the Spear Guy leader (which the native was _still_ kicking himself over losing) suddenly echoed through his mind.

"_I knew I should have never joined them! Things were just fine until they showed up!"_

Just who was that Grass Skirt talking about? And why did they want him dead?

…

Okay, that was a stupid question. Then again, the Spear Guys sent to do him in were unaware of his…nature, so there's a good chance their employers didn't know either. After all, wouldn't you warn your hit men about their target's abilities? You know, if you want them to actually _succeed_. Unless of course, the whole point was to get _them_ killed, but that seemed unlikely.

The Yoshi shakes his head. He was starting to over think things.

The point of the matter is this: There are unknown hostiles on the island, he is their target (or one of them anyways), and he had just agreed to take three tourists to the most dangerous spot on this hunk of volcanic rock and sand, where said hostiles may very well be stationed.

"What was I thinking?" He quietly groans, nervously glancing between the Toads and the jungle's fringe.

'_Oh wait. I __**wasn't**__'_

The fruit-eater's logical half was telling him that he needed to call this off. Sure, the jungle and volcano were always dangerous, but the Yoshi was confident he could handle the hostile locals. This, however, was different. The native had no idea what to expect from this new threat.

He did _not_ like this unknown variable.

The Yoshi may be worrying over nothing, but it wasn't worth risking the lives of his guests. The native sighs as he takes a step forward, preparing to address the foreigners, when new thoughts freeze him in his tracks. He peers at the morbid sand castle in his peripheral, considering these new points. This is where the fruit-eater's illogical half decides to step in and contribute.

He _did_ defeat those Spear Guys pretty easily.

'_You just admitted they were caught off guard!'_ The logical half cries.

Ignored.

Surely a _real_ threat would hire better followers.

'_Powerful individuals draft incompetent help all the time!'_

Ignored.

When was the last time he had a close call anyway?

'_The last close call was just a few minutes ago! The spear thrown by that Grass Skirt barely missed impaling you! How do you not remember that?!' _

Ignored.

Nothing from this island had ever brought him to his knees, what difference will a few new opponents make?

'_Sure, you've handled things fairly well so far, but you don't know __**anything**__ about the island's latest occupants. You __**just**__ went over this! Seriously, what the hell?!'_

…When was the last time he had visitors? That _weren't_ hostile?

A pause.

'…_Again, do you really want to put them at risk?'_

The Yoshi was going in circles; running the same points, both pros and cons, over and over again in his head. In the end, irrationality (and a touch of selfishness) won. He didn't know anything about these Toads (Other than they seemed a bit…weird. Though who was he to talk?), but the promise of company that _wasn't_ after his head was too tempting.

He'll admit it. He was _that_ desperate for social interaction.

"Ugh, I'm pathetic." The native mutters.

The fruit-eater takes a calming breath, attempting to re-gain the nerve to speak to his guests about the tour. To ease his guilt over his decision, the Yoshi promises himself he will immediately lead the Toads back to the beach at the first sign of anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't much, but it would do for the moment.

When the native turns his attention back to the foreigners, he finds the Toads still huddled together, speaking quietly and occasionally casting a glance at him as well as the looming jungle. The Yoshi tilts his head, wondering just _what_ his peculiar guests were discussing. Were they going to change their minds about going on the tour? Admittedly, the trip _did_ sound a little intimidating. Then again, that Toad with the green spotted cap didn't seem nervous when he asked about it. In fact, looking at their features now as they speak, they don't look the slightest bit upset. If anything, the foreigners seem…

Relieved?

That's one of the expressions anyway. The orange and green capped Toads kept sharing knowing, somewhat devious looks. The yellow capped Toad, donning a flawless poker face, was a mystery. The fruit-eater wasn't quite sure what to make of the spectacle, but he couldn't help feeling like these strangers knew something he didn't. His eyes widen slightly, a troubling thought suddenly passing through his mind.

Did they…know something about the latest hostile inhabitants?

Maybe they were working for them.

Though he had only been vaguely paying attention, he remembered a few words the ragged Toads had exchanged.

"_What I want to know is why you're lazing about when we have work to do?!"_

"_It won't matter if we find what we're looking for if we're too weak to do anything about it!"_

Pretty damn suspicious if you ask him.

Whether or not they were involved with…whatever the hell was going on, he couldn't say, but it would be a good idea to keep up his guard. Most would laugh at the idea of a Toad being up to anything malicious, but the Yoshi knew better than to go by stereotypes. (He was a freakin' example!) Call it paranoia, but the native had a feeling these 'tourists' weren't interested in the volcano for its beauty. They were hiding something, he just didn't know what.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so guilty about withholding information.

For now, the fruit-eater will feign ignorance. He will take the Toads on the tour, treat them like any other guest, and protect them just as he initially promised. If the Toads display any adverse behavior, or give him a reason to believe they have hostile intentions…

The Yoshi will take care of them himself.

'_Just once,'_ he mentally sighs. _'I would like to interact with others and not have to question their motives…'_

He takes another step forward, ready to commence with his 'performance'. The native clears his throat.

"Um…Are you three alright?" He calls, lacing his words with a tone of concern instead of suspicion. "I hope you're not having second thoughts about the tour…"

The green Toad quickly turns to face the 'worried' native, looking remarkably like a child caught in the act of misbehaving.

"Oh! No! No no no we're still interested! We were just uh…" He glances around, trying to think of something to say to put the fruit-eater at ease. "…making sure we have enough coins to pay you for your services!"

"_Nice save._" The yellow capped Toad whispers. Whether or not he was being sarcastic, the green Toad couldn't tell.

The Yoshi perks at the topic of payment, ignoring the fact he never mentioned his rates to the Toads. He wasn't a particularly greedy individual, just a guy who was tight on cash-err, coins. Most of his supplies were acquired through trade, so having a little extra spending money was a luxury that the native didn't mind having every now and then.

He shakes his head, clearing from his mind the fantasy of getting to _buy_ a drink instead of spending hours gathering fruit to prepare one.

"Ah, well, we can discuss that later." The fruit-eater waves off absent mindedly. "I tend to let the quality of my work set the price. We do, however, need to head over to my hut and fill out some paperwork. Nothing major, shouldn't take more than a few minutes." He nods to their crummy boat. "Do you need help carrying any of your luggage by the way?"

"No thanks Yoshi, I think we got—"

"READY TO GO!"

The orange Toad glares at his yellow capped friend in irritation for cutting him off, then in surprise to see his companion already donning his hiking bag. He quickly shakes off the mild shock, remembering just who he was dealing with, before strolling over to the boat to get his own supplies, the green Toad following suit.

The Yoshi on the other hand, was not so quick to brush this off.

"What the—" Mouth agape, he points wildly from the yellow Toad's original spot, to the boat, and back to his current position. "How did you—"

"I don't need help carrying my stuff, but I've always wanted to ride a Yoshi on the beach."

The Yoshi jolts in surprise, finding the voice's source, the yellow capped Toad, but an arm's length away. Again he finds himself tripping over his questions. How did the Toad get there? One minute he was near the boat, the Yoshi saw something flit in his vision, and then there he was: standing in front of him as if he'd been there the whole time.

Another flit.

"Would you carry me to…where ever it is we're going?"

Now the yellow Toad was at his side, looking from the native's eyes to his blue saddle.

"C-carry?" The fruit-eater was starting to develop a rather nasty headache.

"…I'm going to take that as a yes!"

A sudden weight makes itself known on the Yoshi's back, sufficiently startling the thoroughly confused native. Instinct swiftly takes over, pushing aside the fact he was carrying a (soon to be) paying costumer, and before he can stop himself, the fruit-eater begins furiously bucking. The Yoshi throws himself forward, outstretched hands connecting with the sand as his backside passes quickly over his head. The fluid, yet oddly violent, flip sends the yellow capped Toad flying through the air, landing head first in the sand a considerable distance away.

Panting, face contorted with rage, the Yoshi slowly rises to his feet. He lets out an angry growl that somehow manages to sound both cute (damn his race) and threatening at the same time. The native huffs in satisfaction, pleased to see how far he tossed the now unmoving Toad, before rationality catches up to him. His brilliant blue eyes widen at the realization of what just transpired. He slowly turns back to the orange and green capped Toads, silently praying to all the stars in Star Haven that they didn't see what had happened.

They did.

Damn it.

Jaws unhinged, the two Toads sweep their gaze over the scene. Their attention starts at their fallen comrade before slowly trailing back to the tour guide. When the native meets their eyes he detects multiple emotions: surprise, confusion, and…that last one…they were…

Impressed?

He doesn't dwell on it. With a shake of the head and the flailing of arms, the Yoshi immediately dives into a mixture of excuses and apologies.

"I-It was a reflex!" He begins rather loudly, as if he felt his guests had trouble hearing him. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—" The Yoshi abruptly turns and starts running to his accidental victim. "Aw shit!"

The fruit eater slides to a stop and drops to his knees, hands hovering hesitantly over the limp Toad. His victim's head was completely buried in sand, body perfectly balanced over said head, limbs drooping uselessly at each side. Again, the Yoshi couldn't help but think how cartoony it all seemed, and would have found it humorous if he currently wasn't terrified that he unintentionally _killed_ a guy. (Who happened to be a costumer, but that was less important.)

Eventually, the native decides on awkwardly digging around the yellow Toad's head, fiercely muttering a variety of things like: "Please don't be dead!" or "This wouldn't have happened if you had stayed off my back!" and even "Gee, I'm glad he didn't land near my morbid 'sand castle'." The Yoshi pauses in his excavation when he notices the presence of the other Toads. He peers over his shoulder, twisting slightly to face them, before babbling more apologies.

Sure, the native was still suspicious of the peculiar visitors, but he had no intention of inflicting harm unless they proved his theories correct.

As the fruit-eater continues to spew nonsensically, something about unexplained rapid movement and a killer headache, he finds himself gauging the reactions of his guests. The Yoshi expected anger, or at the very least fear, but these two didn't seem bothered that the native had shown their companion the shitty side of participating in a rodeo. The orange and green capped Toads wore rather neutral expressions with a slight hint of boredom, like someone sitting through a lecture for a subject they neither hated nor loved. What kind of friends behaved so apathetically to such a serious situation?

"You're funny."

The native whirls around to his left, coming face to face with the yellow Toad. He blinks several times at the foreigner, who had supposedly been unconscious a moment ago, then looks over at the now vacant hole. This pattern continuous, with slight variation, until the yellow capped Toad speaks again.

"_And_ weird."

The Yoshi narrows his eyes at the little mushroom person and opens his mouth to retort when the green capped Toad beats him to it.

"_He's_ weird? There's no one in all of existence that _you_ can say that to and it actually _mean_ something."

Flit.

The yellow Toad now stands before the fruit-eater's defender, chest puffed, arm raised with a single finger pointed in silent declaration. He opens his mouth, about to offer a rebuttal, when he suddenly deflates. (Not literally, though with this strange Toad that doesn't seem out of the question.)

"Eh, you have a point."

His companion smirks in triumph, shouldering his bag before turning back to the dumbfounded native. The green capped Toad narrows his eyes slightly in confusion when the Yoshi motions to his yellow capped companion, the gesture demanding an explanation.

"…What?"

The native gives him a look, one that clearly inquired if he was _seriously_ asking such a thing. In response, the green Toad mentally slaps himself, unable to believe he didn't realize the cause behind the fruit-eater's freak out.

"Oh! Dang…I keep forgetting that other people aren't used to…" He eyes his yellow capped friend extending an arm in his direction. "…that."

The orange Toad looks to his green friend.

"Aren't used to what?" He stares at the yellow Toad for a moment when it suddenly dawns on him. Like his green capped compatriot, the orange Toad also mentally assaults himself. "_Ooooh_…right. It doesn't really faze me anymore so I didn't even think to say anything."

Both Toads turn back to the still very much confused Yoshi.

"Yikes." They hiss in unison.

The native closes his eyes and tilts his head back, willing the headache to cease in its relentless torment.

"Yes, that's a word to describe all this." He groans irritably. "Now are you going to explain or…?"

The green capped Toad turns to the Toad in question.

"Do you want to tell it or should I?"

His yellow capped friend plops down unceremoniously in the sand, smiling at the somewhat disturbed fruit-eater.

"I'll do it. I think you got to explain last time."

The Yoshi cracks a lid at that. From the sound of it, this was more or less routine for the odd little group. Though with what he just witnessed, he really shouldn't be surprised. Such a spectacle deserved _some_ form of explanation.

"Hmm…how can I make this as short and sweet as possible?" The little mushroom person muses aloud. "Well, my parents are very superstitious people. The kind you'd see carry around charms or go on and on about good and bad omens, that sort of thing." He twirls a hand. "They are especially fond of seeing fortune tellers. Heck, I don't think they ever made an important decision without consulting one first!"

The orange and green capped Toads drop their bags and take a seat next to the Yoshi, too lazy to continue standing during their friend's short tale.

"Anyways, the moment my sister and I started to crawl, my folks thought it would be a good idea to bring us with 'em instead of leaving us with a nanny like they usually did. Old enough to crawl, old enough to have our fortunes read, or something dumb like that." The Toad stretches with a yawn. "So after my fortune was read and my sister was taking her turn, I did what any baby would do: I crawled away. My parents were too busy asking the fortune teller about my sibling that they didn't notice me wander off."

The native fully opens his eyes and regards the yellow Toad. He had an idea where this story was heading, but wanted to hear it out before he made any assumptions.

"There I am: a baby exploring a fortune teller's home. What do you think fortune tellers have in their homes? Charms, artifacts, magical junk. What would most people do when they saw this stuff? Well, if they're sensible, they'd politely look but not touch anything. What would a baby do if they saw this stuff? They wouldn't just touch 'em, they'd put 'em in their frickin' mouth! What tends to happen when infants puts small objects in their mouth?"

He looks to the Yoshi expectantly, wanting him to answer the rhetorical question. The native's first thought is to say 'they choke', but that obviously didn't work for this scenario.

"They swallow them." The Yoshi replies.

The yellow capped Toad throws his hands up.

"Yes! Little ol' baby me swallowed a magical item. Eventually my folks noticed my absence and took off searching the house for me. You can imagine their shock when they found their son glowing like the…err…_sun_." He grimaces at the unintended homonym. "The fortune teller was furious. Not with me, I was a baby after all, didn't know any better, but with my parents. She told them I had eaten a powerful item, and a rare one at that. Mom and dad pleaded for forgiveness, saying they would have my stomach pumped and return it immediately."

The fruit-eater raises a brow. These didn't seem like very good parents. First they lose track of their kid in place full of unknown and possibly dangerous objects, then their first thought is to pump their son's stomach _just_ to return something he ate? Not to, you know, save his _life_. In the Yoshi's opinion, there would be more pressing matters than repaying a debt if _his_ child had swallowed something mysterious and turned into a living light bulb.

…heh. _Him_ a father. Heh heh.

"The fortune teller told them such a procedure would accomplish nothing, for once the object is ingested, it is quickly absorbed into the body. I was stuck with it for the rest of my life." The Toad's line of sight finds itself poised over the ocean, a somewhat distant look clouding his eyes. "As punishment for their carelessness, my parents were told to never seek her advice again. That wouldn't be a big deal to most people, but it _devastated_ them. She was without a doubt their most trusted source." He chuckles. "When I first heard this story from my folks, I told them she couldn't have been _that_ great if she didn't predict the accident in the first place. You know, to cheer them up."

The native smiles, mentally agreeing with the statement. He also admired the Toad's attempt to uplift his mother and father, even though they hadn't proved to be the best parents. The Yoshi's grin falters, however, when he notices the Toad develop the slightest of frowns.

"They told me fortune telling didn't work that way."

The fruit-eater gawks. What kind of response is that when your friggin' kid is trying to make you feel better?!

"Eh, where was I? Oh yeah! The fortune teller was at least kind enough to inform my parents of my condition before throwing them out. She said health wise I would be fine, and the glow would wear off in a few days." The yellow capped Toad meets the Yoshi's eyes. "As for the abilities it gave me…"

In the blink of an eye, the Toad was gone.

"You can…teleport?" The Yoshi guesses. With all that he had seen, it seemed pretty obvious.

"Well, kinda." The reply comes from behind the native, causing him to whip around. "But that's only part of it."

Before the fruit-eater can ask what the Toad meant, the foreigner reaches down and picks up a seashell, gesturing to it.

"Watch."

The native does just that, observing as the yellow Toad turns to the sea and holds the shell up in preparation to throw. The strange visitor takes a couple steps forward before throwing the projectile as hard as he can, and the moment he does, the Yoshi rears back in surprise. It was as if someone fired off a bullet bill at an incredible speed. A second later, the shell was well over the horizon, completely out of sight.

'_Super stren—'_

The sound of an explosion cuts off further thought.

The Yoshi's jaw goes slack upon seeing a towering inferno in the distance. There was nothing out there. Nothing but miles of ocean. What could the shell have _possibly_ hit to create an explosion of that _size_? A sea mine? Those are underwater; they wouldn't produce a blaze like that. What about a—

"You should have used a bigger shell. That blast was kinda puny."

The fruit-eater turns to the orange capped Toad with a look of disbelief. How would the size of the shell have made a difference? Unless…

"Wait, you mean the _seashell_ was the thing that blew up?"

He shrugs.

"I dunno. Probably."

"Wha—"

"Don't bother questioning it." The green Toad cuts in. "Your sanity will last longer."

"Again. Wha—"

"I can distort reality!" The yellow Toad cries cheerfully, also feeling the need to interrupt the Yoshi.

Said Toad suddenly levitates a few feet off the ground, before just as quickly dropping back into the sand, landing awkwardly on his back.

"Yeah, and he can't really control his 'gift' that well." The green capped Toad adds, watching his friend get to his feet with dull interest. "Even then, he's pretty limited in what he can do."

"It wears me out if I use it too much or if I use a lot of power at once." The yellow Toad elaborates, glancing out at the dissipating smoke on the horizon. "Another stunt like _that_ and I'll be out of it for a while."

The Yoshi nods thoughtfully, carefully digesting all this new information. He felt a little more at ease after the explanation (as farfetched as it was), and though it still quite didn't make a whole lot of sense, the native was willing to leave it be. This revelation, however, left him wondering if his suspicion over the Toads was ill placed. After what he had seen and heard, the odd trio didn't _seem_ like the villainous type. Of course, it was still too early to draw conclusions, and for all he knew, they could have made the whole story up to cover a more heinous origin of the peculiar abilities.

A mental shrug.

The fruit-eater would keep on his toes, just in case. In the meantime, he needed more clarity.

"So the cartoony dust cloud from your fight," he begins. "and the weird symbols, and your somewhat comical landing after I threw you from my saddle…" The native quietly mutters another apology at the topic. "That was all a part of your…condition?"

"Yup!" The yellow Toad grins. "It wasn't really on purpose though. Like we said, I don't always have control over when it occurs or what happens."

"It tends to be cartoon related, as you pointed out, because this guy's a sucker for that kind of stuff." The orange Toad tilts his head to the Toad in question.

"Yeah…I loved cartoons as a kid." The yellow Toad sighs, a wistful look gracing his features.

"You love them _now_." His green companion smirks.

A light laugh.

"You caught me."

The Yoshi grins, imagining the yellow capped Toad's parents trying to control a real life cartoon character, before continuing his inquiries.

"The teleporting, flitty thing you do, why do you use it so often? I thought you said using your power too much wore you out?" As an afterthought, he adds: "And why the heck does it give me a headache?"

"It's usually not a conscious action, but I think he almost _has_ to do it to…I dunno, work off excess energy. I guess it levels him out instead of exhausting him." The orange capped Toad answers, grumbling as he continues. "As for the headaches…I sympathize. It took a little while for me to get used to them."

"Ditto." The green Toad groans.

"Eventually, I suppose I grew…immune? I don't know. Don't worry, you'll adjust pretty quickly. I'm afraid I can't say _why_ the headaches happen, but then again nothing makes sense when it comes to this friggin' thing."

The yellow Toad grins sheepishly, mouthing an apology.

"Also, I'm _pretty_ sure he has some form of ADHD."

"Hey!"

The fruit-eater watches his guests exchange playful jabs, amused, before rising from his knees and brushing off the sand sticking to his legs. He stretches, arms raised high over his head, when a voice startles him.

"…You're bleeding."

The dull pounding in his head lets the native know who it is before even turning to face the speaker. He regards the yellow capped Toad standing to his left, blinking dumbly with jaw unhinged.

"What?"

The strange guest points to fruit-eater's side, just under his left arm.

"I _said_ you're _bleeding_."

The Yoshi tilts his head, silently agreeing with the orange Toad's joke over his companion's attention issues. One minute the little mushroom person was joking with his compatriots, the next he was saying something about the native bleedi—

Wait, bleeding?

The fruit-eater peers under his arm, twisting slightly to get a better look at his side. The yellow capped Toad was right. He _was_ bleeding. In all the…err…_excitement_, the Yoshi had forgotten about the mild injury he acquired from the spear. What was once a light graze, was now considerably larger. The cut had extended in length and widened slightly, allowing a steady flow of blood, a bit more than a trickle, to snake down his side.

Still not life threatening, but definitely in need of treatment.

'_It must have happened when I threw the Toad…'_ The Yoshi muses, hand hovering over the wound. In hindsight, thrashing around like an angry bull hadn't been such a good idea. (Not that it had been intentional in the first place.)

"Oh…I suppose I am…" The native eventually replies, rather intelligently. He was partially lost in thought, still surprised he hadn't noticed the wound before it had been brought to his attention.

"How the heck did that happen?" The yellow Toad asks, brows raised.

"Uh…" The Yoshi fumbles, his gaze settling on the spears protruding from the ugly mound and the area where his chair had once stood. He silently curses when all three of his guests follow his line of sight, angry at his slip up.

"What is _that_?" The green capped Toad grimaces, sounding both disgusted and intrigued.

"T-that…" The native stammers, wracking his brain for ideas. "Is a part of a festival!"

The Toad trio turns back to him, quizzical expressions requesting explanation.

"I uh…was practicing for a spear throwing competition. It's one of the many challenges that take place during the festival."

"Ooooo when does the festival start?" The yellow Toad beams.

The Yoshi blinks in surprise.

"Um, not for a couple more weeks." He quickly replies.

"Aww…"

"Anyways…" The native continues, ignoring the crest fallen Toad. "That mound," He gestures to the sandcastle abomination. "was my target! I know, it's not pretty, but I don't see the point in making a nice one if I'm just going to be impaling it with weapons."

The peculiar visitors exchange a glance.

"So…you got that," The orange Toad points to the injury. "while you were practicing?"

His tone clearly conveyed that he wasn't buying it. If the native's hand had been cut, that would make sense, since it could have been from accidentally handling the weapon incorrectly. For the Yoshi to get a wound along his side like that, he would have had to inflict it upon himself intentionally. The more likely answer, however, suggested that someone _else_ had done it.

The fruit-eater had been attacked.

"Yeah…" The Yoshi replies lamely. "I'm usually not so clumsy." He shrugs. "Accidents are bound to happen I suppose."

The orange Toad glances at his green capped companion, noting that by the look in his eyes, he didn't believe the fruit-eater's story either.

"That they do…"

An awkward silence descends upon the group, but only lasts for a short time as the green Toad breaks it with a sudden jolt of realization.

"Wait, what are we doing just sitting here? You need to get that cut taken care of!" He reasons, setting aside suspicions for the moment.

The green Toad pulls his bag into his lap and starts rifling through it, ignoring the Yoshi's following claim that he was fine and would treat it back at the hut. The foreigner swears under his breath, frustrated at how unorganized his supplies had gotten in recent days, before procuring a clean rag from the clutter. He tosses it to the native with little warning, not taking his eyes off the contents in his luggage.

"Here Yoshi, use that to staunch the wound while I try and find something more useful."

One of the fruit-eater's eyelids twitches. That was the _second_ time he had been called Yoshi. He had ignored it the first time because of the following craziness with the yellow Toad, but the issue regarding his name needed to be addressed. The fruit-eater folds the rag and gently, but firmly, presses it to the cut, looking back at his guest.

"Um, thanks, but my na—"

"Doesn't that hurt Yoshi guy?"

Said 'Yoshi guy' turns his head to the yellow Toad, more surprised than anything with the interruption. You'd think he'd be used to them with their seemingly growing frequency.

"Well, it stings if that's what you mean." He responds, trying to hide his irritation at being referred to as _Yoshi_ yet again (and so soon too!). "But it isn't anything to fuss over. Also, my name isn't—"

Flit.

"Whoa! Are your spikes really blue?!"

There's that headache again.

The Yoshi finds the yellow capped Toad now standing on his right side, intently focused on the back of his head, amazement apparent in the foreigner's eyes. The fruit-eater frowns as he raises a non-existent brow, not sure if he should address the umpteenth interruption or the extremely random question. He chooses the former.

"Do you ever let anyone finish speaking before opening your mouth?" The native snaps.

The visitor shrugs, blinking slowly.

"I 'unno. But seriously, I've never seen a green Yoshi with spikes colored something other than red…or is it orange?" He taps his chin thoughtfully (Do Toads even really _have_ chins?), before shaking his head. "Whatever, doesn't matter. The point is, your spikes are _blue_! Why is that? Did you dye 'em that color? Paint 'em? Are you mutat—"

If the 'bridge' of the fruit-eater's nose wasn't so massive, he would have undoubtedly pinched it in exasperation. Was promised payment and a little company worth all this nonsense? For anyone else? No, probably not.

"If knowing _really _is that important to you," the Yoshi grinds out, struggling to keep a level tone. "my coloration is due to genetics." Duh. "Though it's rare for Yoshi's to have spikes of a different hue than their 'standard color pallet', it does happen. I'm an example obviously. It's really not that big of a deal, I mean, I've met other Canvas Yoshi's like me and they—"

"Whoa! Hold up!" The yellow Toad suddenly cries, raising his hands in a silencing gesture. "_Canvas_ Yoshi?"

The native blinks, train of thought derailed. "Oh…it's just a label given to my kind who possess that particular strain of…" he trails off at the sight of Toad's amused expression. "What?"

"Nothing!" The foreigner squeaks, covering his mouth. "It's just…" He snorts.

Was he trying not to laugh?

The Yoshi casts a glance at the other Toads, expression demanding what the yellow oddity found so humorous. He is surprised to see the guests sharing odd looks, like they were silently criticizing something. The native's head snaps back to his somewhat irritating interrogator when light giggling draws his attention.

So much for the restraint.

"I've been told I can be quite the funny guy," The fruit-eater mutters in annoyance. "but I'm not sure how anything in my explanation can be considered comedic gold."

The orange capped Toad rolls his eyes.

"Don't mind dipstick there. Rarely anyone can understand why something strikes _his_ funny bone." He raises a brow at his snickering companion. "Though, if I had to guess, I think he finds your title…"

"Dumb!" The yellow capped guest chirps, ignoring his friend's attempt at tact. "Seriously, _Canvas_ Yoshi? Who came up with _that_ stupid name?"

The orange Toad hides his face in his hands, mortified by his comrade's outburst, as the green Toad continues shuffling through his supplies, desperately trying to look like he missed the entire exchange. Eyes narrowed, the Yoshi sputters indignantly, searching for any kind of response to the rather rude words.

"I-I don't know! I didn't choose it!" The native squawks truthfully, though not any less embarrassed. "Who are you to judge anyway, _huh_? What would _you_ call us?" He challenges, feeling rather childish in the process.

The yellow capped offender swiftly dons a rather contemplative look, massaging his non-existent chin thoughtfully as he stares at an unknown point in the distance. After a few surprisingly tense seconds, the foreigner's eyes light up, and he moves a hand in an arching motion, as if painting the words in the air. (Again, with this Toad, it's a wonder this didn't _literally_ happen.)

"Spectrum Yoshi." He breathes dreamily, barley above a whisper.

…What?

"How is that any better than the original?" The green Toad snaps, verbalizing the Yoshi's very thought.

"Yeah!" The orange capped Toad chimes in. "Besides, I kinda like…Pigment Yoshi."

The start of a nod from the native quickly morphs into a double take.

_'Wha—? Now __**he's**__ making a suggestion?!' _

"You two don't know jack about naming things." The green capped Toad deadpans, lifting a small red and white box from his bag.

A smirk tugs at the Yoshi's lips.

_'__**Finally**__. At least one person in this group has a brai—'_

"If anything, _Yoshi of Hue_ would be a more suitable title."

_'Oh come on!'_

"You know what?" The fruit-eater barks, clearly agitated. "I'll be sure to pass along these lovely suggestions at the next 'Canvas Yoshi meeting' so we can fix this apparent travesty of a name! It'll be at the top of our little club's to-do list I assure you."

The sheepish looks at the blatant sarcasm calms the Yoshi, if only a little. After a few mumbled apologies from the small group, the green Toad smoothly rises and trots over to the fuming native, white and red container in hand. He opens the box, revealing its contents, as he carefully passes it to the fruit-eater.

"Here, this should take care of that cut…"

The Yoshi blinks, having nearly forgotten why the Toad had been rummaging through his luggage, before gently taking the small storage device. He peers inside, expecting bandages or gauze, but is pleasantly surprised to find a mushroom. From what the native heard, Toads tended to avoid using mushrooms for medical treatment unless the injury/illness was relatively severe. The reason escaped him, though he dully wondered if it had anything to do with, you know, the fact that _they_ were sort of like mushrooms _themselves_.

The fruit-eater lightly shakes his head, attempting to clear his mind of the unimportant tidbit, as he retrieves the useful fungus from the box. He felt silly using such a handy item for a measly cut, but the native had a feeling the strange guests would insist upon its use even if he were to attempt to decline. He made a mental note to replenish their supplies when they got to his hut.

The Yoshi makes quick work of the mushroom (being the surprisingly self-conscience eater that he was) and, upon feeling its near immediate effects, delicately removes the somewhat bloody rag from his wound. Well, what _once_ was a wound anyway. The previously afflicted area showed no signs of injury, not even the faintest of scars. The native rolls his shoulder and twists his body slightly, emitting a pleased hum when his actions are not met with any pain.

Those spotted fungi sure worked wonders.

"Ah…_much_ better." The native sighs, clearly content. "Thanks for that—" His eyes suddenly widen, hand gesturing wildly as if grasping for words. "Uh…"

The Toads exchange a look, bewildered by the Yoshi's odd behavior, when the green capped Toad gasps in realization.

"Holy—! How could we have been so rude?!"

When the foreigner's companions peer at him, expressions begging for elaboration, the green Toad chooses to continue.

"We never told him our names!"

The other guests join their friend in shocked mortification, unable to believe they had been interacting with the native this _entire time_ without _once_ thinking to introduce themselves. They could only imagine how awkward the Yoshi had felt, not knowing how exactly to address the quirky tourists during their conversations. In reality, the fruit-eater hadn't really noticed the lack of title exchanges (including his own) until that very moment. For all he knew, with his occasionally unreliable memory, the peculiar Toads had already introduced themselves and he had forgotten, hence the embarrassing flailing.

…but they didn't need to know that.

The foreigners frantically scramble so that they are standing in a neat line, shoulder to shoulder, facing the native. Said native found the arrangement rather formal, perhaps even a bit militaristic, not at all something you'd expect from tourists looking to unwind. He mentally files away the observation, yet again finding himself questioning his guests, when the orange capped Toad redirects his attention.

"Please excuse our rude behavior Yoshi," The orange visitor bows slightly as he speaks. "it's been so long since we've been in polite company, I'm afraid we've forgotten our manners."

The fruit-eater would have burst into laughter at the 'polite company' bit if it hadn't raised a red flag. (Him? Polite company? He wasn't a bad guy but…_polite_ company? Ha!) Though he didn't interact with Toads on a regular basis, he knew enough about their general mannerisms that their people prided themselves on displaying proper etiquette, especially those native to Toad Town. Of course, it could be argued that his guests were from a different settlement (after all, they never said where they were from), but their attire led the native to believe otherwise.

The orange capped Toad (Who, for some reason, was _still_ apologizing.) was wearing a light, yet durable, orange and grey hooded jacket. His green capped companion (Who threw in a few of his own pleas for forgiveness.) sported a black, button-up vest over a short sleeved green shirt. The yellow capped Toad (Who, thank the stars, was _not_ making a big deal out of the situation like his friends.) bore a simple light grey baseball tee with yellow sleeves and (Oddly, yet appropriately enough.) an infinity symbol on the chest.

So how exactly did the foreigner's wardrobe reveal their origin? Well, to be frank, tourists from Toad Town never seemed to dress appropriately for their travel destination. Either that or they went overboard by donning cliché safari clothes or even floral printed shirts. (Ugh.) The yellow Toad's baseball tee wasn't too bad, but a jacket and business casual clothes on a tropical island?

Definitely Toad Townies.

Okay, so the native's guests were from Toad Town and had questionable attire, big deal! The point of this little evaluation was not to criticize their fashion (Especially when the critic walks around wearing nothing but shoes and a saddle.), but to clarify a possible underlying meaning to the foreigner's words. The orange Toad just said they hadn't been in polite company in a long time. How can Goody Goodies, living in a town _filled_ with other Goody Goodies, not be in 'polite company' for an extended period? Unless, of course, they have been vacationing for quite some time and this island is just one of their many stops. Or, perhaps, they've been with more…_sinister_ individuals.

Like the ones now lurking on this island.

The Yoshi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, desperately trying to slow down his overactive mind. Arguments and counter arguments were angrily swirling around in the native's head, only making him more confused as he attempted to determine if his suspicions were justified or if he was looking too far into things. The latter seemed more likely, but the constant buzz of other words was making it difficult to concentrate. It took the fruit-eater a moment to realize the distraction wasn't his thoughts, but some other outside audible babble. He opens his eyes, finding the lips of the foreigner's still flapping away.

_'They're __**still **__talking?!'_ The native mentally groans.

"Alright! I get it!" The Yoshi snaps with exasperation, effectively silencing the visitors. Then, more gently, he adds: "It's okay, you're forgiven. I really wasn't broken up about it in the first place. Just…introduce yourselves and let's move on."

The Toads share neutral glances before smiling sheepishly, realizing they had indeed blown the situation out of proportion. Upon seeing their expressions, the native can't help but feel a little remorseful for losing his patience with his guests.

"Sorry about that, Yoshi." The orange Toad chuckles awkwardly. "Let's try this again."

_'Yoshi…__**Yoshi**__!'_ The fruit-eater tenses angrily the moment that word passes through the Toad's lips. All guilt suddenly finds itself replaced by a quiet, yet intense fury.

"My name is—"

"Toad #1." The Yoshi deadpans, cutting off the orange capped visitor.

The foreigner blinks, surprised by the interruption.

"E-excuse me?"

"You heard me, Toad #1." The native smirks, pleased by his improvised idea for 'revenge'. "That is your name. Just as his is Toad #2," He points to the green capped Toad. "and his is Toad #3." He gestures to the yellow Toad.

The peculiar guests narrow their eyes in confusion, looking to each other in hope that at least _one_ member of the group knew what the fruit-eater was talking about.

"Uh…those _aren't_ our names." The green Toad states rather intelligently.

"_Really?_" The native gasps, feigning shock. "But, surely _all_ Toads are named _Toad_! I just assumed that seeing as all Yoshi's…" He pauses with a pointed glare, before continuing in a slightly dark tone. "…are named _Yoshi_."

Perplexed expressions slowly morph into those of realization.

"Oh…oh _wow_." The green Toad finally utters. "I can't believe…I-I didn't think—"

"That my species name and birth name are not one in the same?" The Yoshi raises a brow. "Geez, _one_ of my people who happened to be named Yoshi becomes famous, and now everyone in the Mushroom Kingdom and beyond thinks that's what we all go by?! I used to think at least _Toads_ understood what it was like to deal with that stereotype, but I guess I was wrong."

The foreigners flinch. They were actually _quite_ familiar with the species vs. name issue. As the Yoshi implied, one of their own people's celebrities was named after their species. It was hard not feeling a little resentment to the source of the annoyance (Toad was a great guy from what they gathered, but come on! Get a name change!), for when the trio journeyed beyond their hometown, they too found themselves being addressed in such a manner. Yet here they were, doing the same thing to the native.

Hello hypocrisy.

Several muttered apologies elicit a slight eye roll from the native. He found it amusing, if not a little odd, that a species that praised manners seemed to forget them so frequently. The Yoshi shakes his head, silently reminding himself how unreliable stereotypes really were. After all, isn't that what this stupid argument is stemming from?

"In all fairness, and don't take this the wrong way," The orange Toad eventually voices, feeling the need to defend his group. "but when you 'introduced yourself' you didn't actually…_introduce_ yourself. You just said 'insert name here'..."

The Yoshi blinks, suddenly recalling that he had, in fact, read everything written for his pitch verbatim, including the notes and instructions. His embarrassment over the matter is surprisingly dwarfed by a strange feeling of admiration. It wasn't often that the fruit-eater was 'back-talked'.

"Heh, I did didn't I?" The Yoshi grins, tilting his head. "Even so, you should have asked me for my name instead of making assumptions. I mean, you didn't hear _me_ calling any of you _Toad_ until I decided to make a point now did you?"

No one opened their mouth to argue. When the visitors thought back on their exchanges, not once could they recall being referred to as Toad. The Yoshi had kept his addresses to simple 'you's' and 'he's' throughout the conversation. Of course, the foreigners could counter that the native should have asked for their names as well, but they felt it pointless, and, honestly, didn't want this rather ridiculous debate to be drawn out any further.

"True…" The green capped Toad slowly admits.

"So…" The yellow capped Toad begins after a moment's pause. "What _is_ your name anyway?"

The small group looks expectantly at the Yoshi, eager to hear his true title. The native flashes a cavalier smile before offering a reply.

"_Oh_ no. You're not getting it _that_ easily." He chuckles, somewhat aware of his immaturity. "Until I feel you've learned your lesson, you will continue to refer to me as Yoshi."

The trio gawks in disbelief. After all that fuss made over being called Yoshi, the native is going to punish the foreigners by having them address him as…Yoshi. They didn't know if that was childish or stupid. (Probably both.)

"In addition to that," The fruit-eater continues, as if reading the minds of his guests. "I will call you Toad #1, Toad #2, and Toad #3 respectively."

"…You're…joking right?" The green Toad asks with a hint of dubiety.

"Not at all!" The Yoshi chirps, clearly amused by the tone of his guest's inquiry. "I don't expect you to call each other by those names, though it would help your case, but _I_ fully intend to."

The group collectively groans, not at all liking this arrangement, when the orange capped visitor suddenly perks.

"I…_suppose_ I can put up with the name. After all," He turns to his green capped friend with a smirk. "_I_ have been dubbed Toad _#1_."

The green Toad fixes his companion with a heated glare, the desired response successfully elicited. Before the green foreigner can offer the appropriate retort, the native decides to intervene.

"I wouldn't be so proud of that title if I were you." The Yoshi chides playfully. "You aren't named Toad #1 because you're the best or have my favor. In fact, I gave you that title because you're at the top of my shit list."

The green capped Toad doubles over in laughter at his companion's expression upon hearing this information. Toad #1 shoots his comrade a look before turning back to the native.

"W-why?! What the heck did I do to you?!" He stammers, gesturing wildly.

"You were the first to call me Yoshi." The fruit-eater replies nonchalantly. "_And_ you've called me it the most."

One of the orange Toad's eyelids twitches. Was this guy _seriously_ keeping tabs on something so trivial?

"Oh _come on_!" He whines pathetically. "_They_ all called you Yoshi too! Why should the amount matter?" The orange capped Toad thrusts an arm toward his yellow capped friend. "And _he_ gave you headaches _and_ tried to ride you! How is that not worse than what I did?!"

"Well, Toad #2 healed me, so that aided his place in the ranks." The Yoshi begins, nodding at the green clad Toad. "As for him…" He gives the yellow Toad a thoughtful look, as if he _too_ didn't understand his own decision, before continuing. "The headache issue isn't his fault, so I let that slide. The bit about being ridden is a good point, but I feel the painful landing after getting launched makes us even. Also…"

The fruit-eater trails off, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"He just…_looks_ like a three."

"…what?" The orange Toad deadpans while his yellow comrade beams, as if this made perfect sense.

"I dunno." The Yoshi shrugs. "The number three just sounds so energetic. It suits him."

Toad #1 considers asking how a number can be energetic (though deep down he had a feeling the native was referring to the pronunciation), but ultimately decides against it. The trio had spent enough time on the beach conversing with the odd native, _too_ much actually. The orange capped Toad silently scolds himself for becoming so easily distracted. Petty arguments over names weren't important. They needed to get moving.

They still had a mission to complete.

"Sure…I guess it does…" Toad #1 mumbles awkwardly, trying to think of a polite way to steer the conversation back to the 'jungle tour'.

He glances at his green capped companion, gaining the latter's attention with a subtle nudge. Toad #2 turns his head questioningly to the orange foreigner, eyes widening in understanding when his friend looks to the jungle's fringe.

"In any case, I'm sure we'll work this out," The green Toad starts, glancing deliberately at the fruit-eater. "on the way to the _volcano_."

The Yoshi's eyes widen.

"Oh that's right! The jungle tour!" He cries, frantically gathering up the bags of his guests. "I can't believe I forgot!"

The foreigners watch in bewilderment as the Yoshi continues down the beach, not even bothering to check if his clients were following. Exchanging looks, the trio hurries after the native, calling out in confusion.

"Where are you going?!" Toad #2 asks, tripping slightly as he tries to match the fruit-eater's pace.

"To my hut remember?" The Yoshi replies, glancing over his shoulder. "We'll need to stock up and fill out the appropriate paper work before going into the jungle."

"Is that really necessary?" The orange capped Toad gasps, also having difficulties keeping up with the native. "We're kind of on a—err—_tight_ schedule."

The fruit-eater's brow twitches slightly at the comment, but chooses to bite back his blossoming inquiries in favor of answering.

"If you're under _my_ care it is." He states evenly. "Besides, it won't take very long. We'll be in the jungle before you know it. I promise."

Toad #1 opens his mouth to protest when the sand sculpted 'target' catches his eye in passing. The foreigner carefully regards the spears protruding from it, a feeling of unease suddenly settling over his person.

"If you say so…" He mutters quietly.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Good lord that's a heck of a chapter! Over ten thousand words? Really? Yes really.

This bugger's been complete for sometime now, I've just been re-reading/re-writing the crap out of it. In other words: I was (and still am to a degree) far from satisfied. Then I thought, "Eff it, good enough" and here we are.

Ugh.

We learn quite a bit this chapter. Like...my characters second guess themselves. A lot. And...everyone is suspicious of everyone. :p

Fun fact about Toad #3's "power": In the comic that inspired this story, Toad #3 was a character that revolved around nonsensical visual humor, and his "abilities" had no explanation. I wasn't sure how to translate this effectively into a written work, so I came up with a rather derp back story so his antics wouldn't seem quite so...random. Even though they are...Fak I dunno.


End file.
